You are the piece of me (I wish I didn't need)
by Jinxgirl
Summary: When Santana suspects Rachel of being not only not-straight, but attracted to her, she decides to use this to her advantage. But how will she handle it when Rachel begins to get beneath her skin in every aspect of her life? Redo of season 2, eventual Pezberry. Some Brittana. Cowritten with Foxchaos and britt-britt-pierce. Rated M for underage sex, eating disorders, depression.
1. Chapter 1

Author notes: This is a redo of season two, and an eventual Pezberry. Based on a rp between myself and Foxchaos. Cowritten by Foxchaos, who controls all Rachel parts.

Most of the time, Santana tried to tell herself that Rachel Berry didn't exist.

It was easier to ignore her than to let herself admit, even to only herself, that she was jealous of the girl. How could someone like Santana Lopez, former Cheerio, one of the Unholy Trinity, the three hottest girls in the school and the only one of the two who had neither given birth nor still believed in fairies and Santa Claus, actually be JEALOUS of a little Jewish leprechaun loser like RACHEL BERRY?

Okay, so maybe Rachel had a voice that could send chills down Santana's spine if she caught herself listening to it without bracing herself first not to react. Maybe Rachel actually had a pretty decent body, ALMOST as good as Santana's had been pre-boob-job; definitely Santana had to win over on her post-boobs, or at least she damn well hoped so, or she might as well kill herself right here and now. Maybe Rachel wasn't a total dog, lookswise, even if she did dress like a cross between a neurotic kindergartener and a senile grandmother. And maybe the fact that she managed to attract the attention of not one but TWO boys Santana herself had slept with did sort of raise Santana's hackles, even if she herself didn't care or feel attraction towards either of them, what with the entire lesbian issue she still hadn't figured out yet how to deal with.

But still, it was Rachel. Rachel, more commonly known by Santana as Hobbit, Dwarf, Midget, and any other variation of sneering nicknames that Santana could conjure to mind. How could she possibly be jealous of RACHEL?

She couldn't be, was the only possible answer, so Santana hastened every time she felt the smallest stirring of envy or wistfulness towards her to cover it up for herself as much as for anyone else, forcing herself to spit out a spiteful or sarcastic comment or to at the very least show boredom. If the girl ever actually knew that Santana saw her as remotely equal to her in anything…well, that just couldn't happen.

Bad enough that Santana herself had been single now for most of the year, and worst, hadn't even really WANTED to have sex with anyone…at least, anyone with male parts. Bad enough that not too many guys were even offering, as though they could somehow subconsciously sense that her real interests were otherwise. Bad enough that she was slowly coming to understand that she loved her best friend, and that once she had finally mustered up the courage to tell her, that Brittany had, though as nicely and in as Brittany-ish a fashion as possible, rejected her.

On top of all of that, all the pain and confusion and insecurity, all the hiding and hating herself of this year, Santana couldn't stand to acknowledge too that Rachel Berry might be better at her in some way, somehow. That was entirely too much. And so each time a thought came to her in that direction, she immediately diverted its focus, and a resentment towards Rachel began to build.

She was dying to find something to use against Rachel, some way to pay her back, even if Rachel had no idea that Santana resented her, and when she got that chance, she seized upon it with eagerness.

It was fairly typical for the girls of Glee to dress and undress together for performances. Usually this took place in the small dressing stalls behind the auditorium, with the guys using two of the small curtained areas, the girls using the other two, and half the girls would go into one together, the other half in the other. Generally Santana, Brittany, and Quinn would go together into one, with the others in the other, but on that particular day, somehow Rachel ended up in the changing area with her, Quinn, and Tina.

Santana was used to undressing in front of girls, having been on the Cheerios squad for so long. If she grew too interested or too uncomfortable, she had two choices- to avert her eyes and get through it quickly, or to boldly look right at them, make comments, and talk, making sure to show them how very comfortable she was. She hadn't ever really been interested in watching Rachel before, so this dilemma had never came up.

But as she talked deliberately with Quinn while changing, in order to keep her eyes off of Brittany's body, she noticed out the perimeter of her vision that Rachel was standing nearby, and that her eyes were on Santana. More specifically, on Santana's mostly unclad body.

Santana's eyes moved to Rachel quickly, and though she said nothing, she held her gaze for a few seconds, disbelieving and more than a little thrilled when Rachel reacted. No way…no friggin' way had Rachel Berry been staring at HER…with THAT sort of look in her eyes.

Santana was a lot of things, including insecure, hypocritical, and judgmental, but she knew one thing for sure, and that was that she knew what someone checking her out looked like. And she was pretty damn positive that Rachel Berry had been checking her out.

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This was a freakin' jackpot.

Rachel couldn't believe she had let herself get caught.

The moment Santana met her eyes the younger girl knew she was in trouble. Because the idea of Rachel Berry being _anything _but straight simple wasn't something that was allowed to happen. It was a fact of her life in Lima; she was slushied, her dads were gay, she was the star of Glee club, and she was straight.

Completely, and without question, _straight_. Like an arrow.

Except… Well… She had, in the past year or so, come to realize that maybe she wasn't… quite as straight as she had always hoped.

Maybe she was… _a little _not-straight. Not… Not _gay_, or anything. But… just… She could appreciate other women. With her eyes. And the rest of her body. At least in her head, when she actually let herself think about, which was rare, because such thoughts were dangerous.

Very, very dangerous.

And really, dressing with the other girls had never been an issue. Sometimes her eyes would stray for a second or two, but usually nothing more than a passing glance at their legs or maybe even a bare stomach or something.

She hadn't meant to actually _stare _at Santana Lopez, arguably the most dangerous girl in the school, right up there with Quinn Fabray and much more aggressive about showing it. But she hadn't been able to stop herself. She had just pulled on her dress for their rehearsal number and there was Santana's body, just over a foot away, with long tan legs, nearly perfectly toned abs, and she just-

Rachel hadn't even realized she had been openly looking until her eyes went up to Santana's face, and saw her looking straight at her.

Without hesitating Rachel turned away, hiding her flushed face, and quickly grabbed her shoes. She left the changing room to head to the wings of the stage, and pray to all that was good and full of music that Santana wouldn't know, or would never mention, what had happened.

Friday of that same week, two days had passed and Rachel hadn't noticed anything abnormal about Santana's interaction with her.

It should have made her feel safer, but it didn't. Instead, she got the distinct feeling that something was very wrong, and that the ex-Cheerio was definitely planning something.

Still, it was the end of the day, no Glee practice, and hopefully over the weekend she could figure some things out and calm down. As she made her way to the choir room to practice on her own, she let out a little sigh. Beyond an extra slushy, courtesy of Santana herself, and some of the usual glares, everything had been normal since The Incident, as Rachel was prone to call it in her head.

And, as she sat down at the piano and began to organize her sheet music, she didn't notice the door clicking shut behind her.

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Of course, Santana didn't put her plan into action right away.

That would lessen her enjoyment of her ace in the hole considerably, to pounce on Rachel while she was actually half expecting it. Sure, she might have enjoyed embarrassing her in the dressing room, where Quinn and Tina would hear, or even better, she could have waited until they finished up their number and were already on the stage in front of the entire group, where Rachel's little star could really get dragged down into the ground. But still, that seemed too direct, too anticlimactic, neither which was Santana's star. If she REALLY wanted to make Rachel squirm, and benefit herself in the long run, well, she had to do this in a slower timing.

So she deliberately gave it several days, days in which she watched Rachel subtly, when the girl didn't seem to notice and Santana could be fairly sure that no one else did either. Several other times she saw Rachel's eyes linger a little too long on other girls in passing for Santana's sharpened gaydar to be able to shrug away, and by day two she could hardly believe she hadn't noticed it before. Berry wasn't cracking no ruler straight yardstick, that much she was sure of, and she couldn't help but be thrilled by it.

Not that she CARED, of course, other than because it gave her leverage for tormenting her. Of course it's not like Rachel Berry and her fantasies were any concern whatsoever of Santana's….although somehow it was sort of nice to know that she wasn't the only one out there who was hiding, even if the only other person who was, was a loser like Berry. Which on second thought, wasn't really all that comforting.

She waited until the end of the school day on the day she had finalized her decision before feigning leaving something in the choir room, certain that as usual, Rachel could be found there getting in very much unneeded extra practice time. When the girl looked up as she threw open the door, Santana took her time in crossing the room, then sat astride the piano, leaning in close to Rachel's face as she smirked down at her.

"Well, well, who would've thought Berry's rainbow-colored freak flag was gonna burst out of the closet and start flying high? Or at least at half mast with a feeble wave?"

Rachel couldn't move as Santana strode in, door closing behind her ominously. As the taller girl jumped up to sit on the piano, making her even taller than usual as she leaned down in close to Rachel, her jaw immediately set at the girl's words, and her eyes hardened even as her face went flush from the proximity.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Santana. I've always been a supporter of human rights. I thought I had made that clear," she replied back, force firm but hands clenching into the fabric of her skirt.

Her heart was hammering in her chest, and Rachel was positive that had she not been so prideful she would have already ran.

But also, Santana's gaze had her locked in place, and that smirk was doing things to her body and composure that she would never, ever admit— not even to herself.

"What do you want, Santana? I've a strict schedule to keep to, and you're cutting into my practice time."

"Yeah, you're always running your mouth over something, usually I don't really bother to register much other than that your lips are moving, and that's my cue to turn up my Ipod to highest volume," Santana tossed out, her eyes sliding up and down Rachel's seated form and noting with satisfaction her skirt being twisted in her hands.

Whatever she might say, the girl was obviously intimidated, and she took this as her cue to slide closer, deliberately letting one leg graze Rachel's side. She was almost close enough that if she leaned forward a bit more, she could kiss her- not that she wanted to, of course, but it was fun to make Rachel squirm and think she might, anyway.

"We talking wants now? I know what YOU want," she let her voice drop down low, eyes still on Rachel's as she deliberately slid a hand over her own recently surgically enhanced chest, hoping that Rachel's eyes would follow them involuntarily. "I saw you watching me, Berry, with your tongue practically hanging down to your own tits. And strangely enough I haven't heard you marching around talking about your very own human rights to ogle other girls in the dressing room."

Rachel lost control of her eyes the moment Santana leaned in closer, eyes zeroing in on the other girl's lips, then down to Santana's chest, heart-rate speeding up as she swallowed thickly.

In a flash she was off the piano seat, putting distance between herself and Santana and taking a subtle breath and try and calm herself down. "You're disgustingly vulgar," she hissed, a slight tremor in her voice as she began to realize that Santana knew at least _something _of what Rachel had tried so desperately to hide.

She took another step away from the girl, hands clenching tightly into fists at her side as she squared her shoulders and straightened up in defiance. "I'll ask again, _what do you want_, Santana Lopez?"

Santana can't keep herself from breaking into a smile, albeit one that is rather absent of genuine joy as she watches Rachel's reaction with amusement. Slowly, she slips off the piano and stretches her arms over her head, watching Rachel to see if she would again look down at her emphasized chest before she takes two slow steps towards her, raising her eyebrows.

"I'm thinking what I want is a slave at my beck and call. Not the bedroom kind, you're not gonna get THAT dream come true…but you like doing homework for yourself enough, you might as well up your SAT score potential by doing mine too. Whenever Glee solos come around, I think you'll probably want to perform the songs I suggest and champion me doing the solos if I want them. I think you'll probably agree that boobs like this make your back hurt after a long day, so you'll probably want to carry my books and buy my lunch and carry the tray for that too, since it could make my back give out or something. And I'm pretty sure that Finn would probably be really fascinated to know that you probably pretty much was interested in him just because he has man titties almost rivaling mine, so I think you'll probably want to help me out all you can so I don't get so exhausted I let my guard slip and end up telling him all about it."

Eyes widening and nerves rattling with every word that left Santana's mouth, Rachel backed herself up against the wall, jaw tight and throat working as she swallowed audibly, trembling both in anger and shame.

Her breathing was a little irregular, and by the time Santana stopped speaking, Rachel had to close her eyes and fight to keep herself from lashing out. Because she was so, so _angry _with Santana now. She had never felt this- this- She didn't even know how to describe it. Enraged, embarrassed, maybe even disappointed. Though she shouldn't have bothered with the last, because Glee club or not Santana had made it clear she couldn't stand Rachel.

But this was just… A new level, she supposed.

With a deep breath, forcing back tears as she had so many times before, Rachel opened her eyes and glared fiercely at the other girl. "I wish I could say I'm surprised that you could sink so low. But honestly? I'm not. But I refuse to pay for your lunch. And really, what will people say if I'm always around you? There's no point in blackmailing me if it's obvious you've got something on me," she tried to argue. "If people are going to find out one way or the other, I'd rather they do it on their own than subject myself to you."

It was pretty interesting to Santana to watch Rachel's face shift color several times, from white to red to a paler pink, to see the girl's expression move from horrified to frightened to angry and defiant. She had to give her that, Berry had some spunk, anyway.

She moved several steps closer, the better to make her uncomfortable. "See, Berry, that's your problem to work through and not mine. It's on you to figure out a way to serve my every need without anyone figuring out exactly what's going on or even if that you're doing it at all. And the less people can visibly figure it out, well, the less I have to be actively around you, and the less I might slip up and let people in on your dirty little secret I happened to be subjected to."

After a few moments, she added with false thoughtfulness, "You know, Berry, that's called sexual harassment, what you did. Lying about your sexual orientation just so you can perve around undressing in front of the other girls and get your jollies off? Ever heard of the penalties against voyeurism? I could probably get you registered as a sex offender, and I'm pretty sure prestigious colleges and Broadway aren't really into that."

Fists tightening all the more, Rachel's reply was sharp. "I'd like to point out that I have never stated my sexual orientation. _Not once_. To another person." She pressed herself closer to the wall behind her, hating the effect Santana had, the power that the girl held over her.

"Also, having to hide one's sexual preferences when one's_ safety_ could be at stake is completely normal. Especially for a town such as Lima." Glaring harder, she went on. "You may never have noticed, or perhaps have even been a part of some of it, but I distinctly remember every single word and action anyone here has said against my fathers, including slashed tires and the words 'devil spawn' spray painted on our doors on more than one occasion. And that is the _only _reason I am agreeing to this."

Working up some courage, Rachel stepped right up into Santana's personal space, looking up to meet her eyes. "I refuse to give people any more reason to attack my family simply because of whom my fathers love. So fine. I'll do as you demand. But when this all falls through, and I am certain it somehow will, I hope you can still be proud of yourself, Santana Lopez, at your new, all time low that you have successfully reached."

Ohhh, she was not letting that hit a mark. She was not, she was not, she was NOT letting Rachel Berry strike a nerve, whether of guilt or of personal pain, and if she did let her she was NOT letting her see it.

Rachel was right, Santana herself had actively participated in harassing Kurt for his homosexuality, and calling into question others' sexuality as well. She was always among the first to laugh at or make sarcastic comments about him, and although she hadn't gone so far as to harass Rachel's dads, more than a few kids, Kurt included, had gotten Slushee-ed by Santana purely for being gay.

She knew she was a hypocrite, and she knew that what she was doing was below the belt. And Rachel's words about safety and family and loyalty towards them was making her rather uncomfortable, though she did all she could not to let it show in her expression.

Santana too was worried about her safety, if she ever let anyone see how she really felt about Brittany, how she really didn't feel about guys. What would happen if the same people she had mocked for being gay found out that she was too? Would they actually try to hurt her? What would happen to her reputation, how fast would she be kicked off Cheerios? People would laugh at her and yell names at her as they passed her in the hall, they would push her into lockers and it would be a daily Slushee, not just once in a while…no one would fear her any more, or respect her or lust over her, because she would become a target.

And her family. What would happen to her father if everyone found out the doctor's daughter was gay? Her abuela would be furious beyond anything Santana could imagine….

Realizing that her heart was pounding audibly, that she may have temporarily lost control of her expression, Santana straightened, looking back at Rachel with a sneer. She didn't care. This was Rachel, not her. She didn't care, and she wouldn't feel bad. She wouldn't.

"I haven't reached the low I bet you wish I have, Berry. So we have a deal then? You're my slave girl and I keep my mouth shut as long as you…satisfy me?"

Rachel wasn't sure why Santana's expression had changed for a moment, but it did. Except before she could really look at it, and figure out why it had changed so suddenly, it was back to the sneer she knew all too well, and Santana's dark eyes were once again cold and amused.

Taking a shuddering breath, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from crying, or screaming, she wasn't sure which, Rachel nodded. "I am _not _a slave, Santana," she replied sharply, completely ignoring the sudden wave of heat that coiled in her stomach at the girl's words. "But _yes_. We have… we have a deal. Just…" She closed her eyes tightly, looking down at the ground. "Just _please_. Don't tell _anyone_."

If this was any clue as how she was going to be feeling from now on; powerless, humiliated, disgusted with herself… Then Rachel suddenly was looking forward to school even less than she had previously.

"Are we down? Can you please leave now? I have music to practice." And a lot of emotions to let out while she still had the chance, it seemed.

She should be completely thrilled. She was getting exactly what she wanted here, the exact reaction she hoped for. Rachel was embarrassed and at least partly demoralized, feeling helpless and under Santana's thumb. Rachel would have to do like she wanted and asked for now…then why did Santana feel so strangely empty inside, to the point of physical aching?

She knew she should get in one more parting shot at Rachel, or at least give hers orders for tomorrow. But her mind was blank, and instead she backed away, shrugging.

"Yeah, whatever. Come ready tomorrow."

She knew once her back was turned and she was walking away that her expression had changed again, no longer entirely controlled, but she knew as well that Rachel couldn't see. Right now, that was what could only nod stiffly, waiting for Santana to exit the choir room and the door to close behind her before she shakily made her way back to the piano bench, sitting down with trembling hands and releasing a tight, shuddering breath.

Her mind was racing, trying catch up with what had just happened.

Santana knew she wasn't quite straight.

Santana was blackmailing her.

Santana was going to reap every single benefit she possibly could for as long as she could and Rachel, if she wanted to protect herself and her family, couldn't do anything about it.

A few tears managed to escape from the corners of her eyes, but she ignored them, straighten her back and returning her focus as best as she could to her sheet music. She was strong. And she could handle this. Santana Lopez was not going to break Rachel Berry.


	2. Chapter 2

So Project Berry Mortification is off to an excellent start.

The night after getting Rachel's agreement to become her slave girl- because whatever she wanted to call it, that was exactly what she was to Santana, anyway- Santana had spent some time thinking of what exactly it was she wanted Rachel to do for her, and the list was long. She had for the next several days managed to slip into Rachel's clinched fist, beneath her notebook, or pulled her aside from others and looked her directly in the eye with a wicked smile as she gave her orders for her day.

So far Rachel had told to give Santana her own lunch, only to watch as Santana took one bite and then threw it in the trash, asked to swap shoes because "they looked more comfortable" than Santana's, only to have Santana then walk away holding Rachel's shoes, still wearing her own, then throw them into the toilet. She had presented Rachel with all of her homework and out of class assignments to do for her and instructed her not to volunteer for any solos in Glee, and to top it off, she had assigned Rachel a fifty-word limit to how much she could say in each class that Santana was present in, and forbidden her from speaking to Finn more than twice per class period. All in all, it was hysterical, especially when Rachel got up in arms about it.

But somehow it still wasn't as enjoyable as Santana would have predicted, and she couldn't really put her finger on why. It was almost like she was TRYING to enjoy herself more than actually enjoying herself.

Part of it was Brittany. Occasionally she caught Brittany looking at her with an odd look to her eyes, and at the end of the week, when Brittany pulled her aside, Santana was not prepared for what came out of her mouth.

"Tana, you're being mean to Rachel."

"And…how is this new or alarming information?" Santana raised an eyebrow, giving Brittany a playful nudge and smile as they walked down the hallway, with Santana carrying nothing, as she had earlier given Rachel all her books. After all, she wasn't using them for homework.

"You should stop," Brittany said plainly, and she came to a stop as she said so, turning to face Santana directly, her blue eyes serious, even disappointed. "Rachel isn't mean to you and sometimes it makes you look less attractive. Frowns give wrinkles."

"Wait a minute, since when do you care about Rachel Berry? I thought being mean to Rachel was like our THING here, it's the whole school's thing!" Santana protested, stopping to face Brittany as well as she widened her eyes at her. "Brit-Brit, it's just Rachel. And anyway-"

"You should stop," Brittany repeated, quietly but firmly. "Sometimes I don't like to be around you when you do things like that. You're not really that mean, and I'm a pacifist, so when you pretend to be mean it makes me feel like I'm committing a war crime."

"Committing a- you don't like to be around me when I'm mean? You mean, like, eighty percent of the time I'm breathing, you don't like to be around me?" Santana blustered, but even as she spoke, her tone rising, she could feel her heartbeat quickening, hurt already settling in her chest. "If you don't like to be around me, why the hell are you here?"

"Santana-"

"No, Brittany, why are you here then? What, is that why you won't leave Artie, because he's nice to Rachel Berry?"

"Santana-"

But Santana was shoving past her, almost fleeing down the hall, and though she didn't look back, she knew Brittany wasn't chasing her. Stumbling into the first girls' bathroom she found, she flung open the last stall door and slammed it shut behind her, not bothering to lock it properly as she dropped to her knees before it. Head bowed down to her chest, she let her tears come now that she was no longer out in public or around Brittany, hating the audible gasping noise they made but not trying to stem it.

Brittany didn't like to be around her. Brittany didn't like HER. What else could she get out of that conversation but that, that Brittany, the only person in this school she really loved or cared about, the only one whose opinion mattered, didn't like her? And what did that mean for her life, what did that say about her, if the one person who she had thought would always have her back didn't even like her?

It was easy to make herself sick; she had had considerable practice, since joining Cheerios, and it was always less effort as well when she was already upset. As Santana spat the last of her bile into the toilet, aware that she was trembling slightly, her arm muscles strained, she tried to shake her hair back from her face, quiet sobs still occasionally breaking forth.

Why did she always manage to sabotage everything?

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The last few days had, for all intents and purposes, been hell.

Rachel had been flogged down by homework, most of which was not her own, lost a favorite pair of shows, rarely got to eat her own lunch, could barely speak, hadn't been allowed to sing _at all_, and whenever Finn tried speak to her, even as just _friends, _she was forced to make excuses to stop the conversation.

It hadn't even been a full week and she was ready to just curl up into a ball and cry.

The only thing that kept her going was that Artie, and Brittany, had apparently noticed the enlarged target on her back, and he was helping her where he could. He had asked what was going on, but stopped after the first few times Rachel had changed the conversation. Along with that, she was constantly keeping in mind as to _why _she was putting up with this hell.

She had to think of her family, not herself.

Selfish as she knew she was when it came to performing (and the inability to do so alone was slowly killing her), she wasn't selfish about that. She'd do what she needed to in order to protect them.

And if that meant being blackmailed and slushied double time and losing shoes and skipping lunch sometimes, then so be it. She was strong. Stronger than Santana knew.

It was between classes and she was trying to balance hers and Santana's books as she went into the girl's room, mostly to dodge the jock with the cherry slushie she knew was for her. She heard sobbing coming from one of the stalls. Despite knowing that no one would do the same for her, she was concerned. Setting the books down on the countertop, Rachel took a tentative step forward towards the closed stall she heard the sounds coming from.

"E-excuse me? Are you okay? Do you need help at all?" she asked softly, concern ringing through her voice.

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She knew that voice. Santana KNEW that all too annoying voice, and there it was, less than a foot away from her, only a flimsy stall door in between. One she hadn't even fucking LOCKED.

Rachel Berry was in the bathroom, listening to her…for how long? Had she been in another stall? Had she heard her throwing up? She had definitely heard her crying…oh god, the little sneak. That little too solicitious do gooder…oh god, how the hell could she deal with RACHEL BERRY hearing her little breakdown?

Before she could really think about it„ Santana shouted back to her, her voice choked with tears, even as she frantically wiped at her cheeks.

"No, get the hell out of here, Berry!"

She was so stupid, why had she said that! She might recognize her voice, she at least knew that Santana knew who she was, which might mean she could connect the dots…why had she ANSWERED her?!

"S-Santana?" gasped Rachel, now unsure of how to proceed.

The girl that was literally making her life hell was obviously troubled by something, but really, why should she care? She could guarantee that Santana wouldn't have cared about her. The girl would probably laugh and throw a slushie in her face if she ever saw Rachel cry— which was why Rachel never cried where people could see or hear her.

She had zero reason to care that Santana was upset. And frankly, the Latina would probably just scream and hit her if she pressed this issue. It was safer to walk away. Of course it was.

But she wouldn't be Rachel Berry if she went the safe route, and the one thing that kept her going much of the time was that she _wasn't _like Santana Lopez. So…

"Santana… you're clearly distressed about something… I couldn't, in good conscious, just leave you like this…" Mentally she was steeling herself for the backlash. And physically, as well, as she took a small step back and tensed herself in case of an attack.

Couldn't in good consciousness leave her like this? That was such a Rachel Berry way of talking that Santana would have laughed with disbelief, if she wasn't so miserable. As it was, Rachel didn't seem to be leaving, and in fact it sounded like she was stepping forward to Santana. Any moment now she might actually open the stall door, and the thought filled her with new panic. What if Rachel actually LOOKED at her like she was now?

She opened her mouth to scream at her again, but to her own horror, no words came out, only another sob, loud and obvious. Santana clapped a hand over her mouth, digging her nails into her thigh as heat flooded her face.

God she hated herself.

At no immediate threat of violence, and instead only the sounds of sobbing getting clearer, Rachel closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened the stall door.

What she saw made her heart ache, which was, again, completely stupid, Santana would not feel the same for her in a million years. But, once again reminding herself that she was better than that, the girl swallowed thickly, biting her lip and shifting a little awkwardly. Now that she was here she didn't actually know what to do.

Social cues weren't her greatest forte, lacking the necessary friends to learn them from. "Um… Would you… Do you need me to get Brittany? Or…?"

No, no no, this was not happening. Shit, shit, SHIT, this was NOT happening!

Rachel had opened the door. Rachel was standing just a few feet away from her, looking down at her with that scared little girl, hand-wringing, yet pitying look that made it all seem ten thousand times more unbearable than all of this already was. Santana wanted to kick her in the shins or rip out handfuls of her hair for looking at her like that, like she was less than RACHEL BERRY…but the truth was that she was, wasn't she? This was proof of it.

This was why Santana had hated the girl so much…because she knew and believed this was true.

Rachel was there now, looking at her with her smeared makeup and her messy hair and her wrinkled clothes, sitting on the filthy bathroom floor. Rachel saw that her nose was running and the way she was shaking…Rachel saw that she hadn't flushed the damn toilet, SHIT OH GOD NO.

She started to try to get to her feet but her limbs didn't seem to want to cooperate. And then Rachel asked about getting Brittany, and panic overtook horror as Santana vehemently shook her head.

"NO, don't get Brittany, just…just go away, I told you to leave me alone!"

Was about to respond, then caught a glance at the toilet, and felt nausea over-take her. Partly because she had a weak stomach, and partially because… well… "Santana… Did you…?" How does one ask a tormentor and bully if they threw up? Or why they threw up?

Slowly, moving as though Santana was a caged animal that could strike any second (and to Rachel she most certainly was), the smaller girl moved to the other wall of the stall, and flushed the toilet, letting the sound of the flushing drown out her racing heart. Then she slowly sank down carefully onto the floor across from the Latina, fiddling nervously with her hands and all the while wondering what the hell was wrong with her.

"Okay… no Brittany… fair enough… Maybe ? Or- Or um…" She had never been bad at words, but this was completely out of her element. She twisted her hands in the skirt she wore to keep them from shaking, then spoke again. "I- I… I hear is thinking about offering you the solo for Sectionals this year." Just saying it made Rachel's chest tight and her throat lock up, but she forced the words out. "I told him it was a good idea. Because you're a fantastic singer."

God what was she even doing?

Rachel wasn't leaving. Had she really sunk so low that she would repeatedly scream for her to leave, even practically beg her to, and she looked so completely unscary that Rachel still stayed?

Santana flinched when Rachel moved past her, and when she realized that the other girl was not only looking at the toilet, but flushing it, she cringed, lowering her head as her cheeks stained crimson. The only thing that could make this situation worse was if the entire Cheerios squad came in after her now.

Or Brittany.

Just thinking about Brittany now was still too much, and another tear squeezed out, one that Rachel couldn't possibly have missed. Santana ground her teeth together, pinching her skin harshly yet subtly to try to stop, but Rachel sitting across from her, talking to her quietly, if awkwardly, and actually trying to be nice…that was not helping.

She didn't understand her. She just didn't get the girl at all. No one was around to see her being student of the year, she wasn't getting any credit for this. So why would she actually care about Santana when Santana had never done anything at all to make her care? Was she really that much better than Santana?

"Don't get anyone. Just…don't get…" her voice trailed off before she blurted, "Why are you DOING this?"

"Because I've a death wish, probably," offered Rachel, attempting to joke. The look on Santana's face told her that wasn't going to work, so she switched tactics, sort of. She shrugged. "You're… You're obviously having a terrible day, Santana. And…" She paused, drawing into herself a little. "And I know all about terrible days. They're sort of my norm." She didn't care if the stab was obvious; she needed to get _something _out of this…

"And I know that, during my own terrible days, I'd like for someone to show something akin to concern. Just once. For someone to maybe notice that I wasn't doing well, and to bother to care for two seconds about it." Another shrug. "So, I guess that's what I'm offering."

Taking a deep breath, still not actually looking at Santana, she pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "You're a terrible person to a lot of people, including myself. But that doesn't mean you don't deserve to be cared about."

That last sentence hit Santana hard, almost enough to cause her to physically recoil. She felt genuine pain strike her heart, as though somehow Rachel Berry had managed to reach inside her to punch it repeatedly.

She had thought only Brittany was capable of making her feel that way.

How could anyone, let alone Rachel Berry, think she deserved to be cared about, when the one person Santana had always thought would maybe didn't anymore?

She tried to summon up a harsh retort, but no words came to her mind, and really she didn't want to say them. She just felt like she HAD to, that it would be somehow dangerous if she couldn't come up with any, and she frantically tried to think of something, anything to say to make Rachel back off and stop feeling sorry for her…stop caring. But nothing came, and she said nothing, feeling more tears begin to drip down her cheeks and stain her shirt.

She didn't understand this at all.

Rachel sighed a little, letting the silence stretch. The warning bell for class ending soon rang, and she sighed again. Now she'd have to somehow get the notes from someone, for both her class and Santana's…

Looking back to the girl in question, Rachel made a decision.

She'd probably regret it late (or in the next 5 seconds), but she'd deal with the consequences when they happened.

"I need to go get… our homework, now, but… But maybe you should take the day off. It's half over anyway." And it wasn't like Santana was doing any of her own homework anyway. "And… I'm just… I'm going to hug you now. If you feel the need to hit me please avoid my face," she rambled out hurriedly. Then she leaned over, and hug Santana, just as she said she would. Squeezing her around the shoulders for a second before drawing back quickly, standing up, face feeling flush for reasons she promptly ignored.

"I hope you feel better, Santana," she said, then grabbed the large stack of books, and hurried out the doors. Her heart was beating out of her chest, hands were shaking, and mind going a mile a minute. She needed to get to class, and try to not think about Santana Lopez, and how even with bloodshot eyes and a running nose she was still completely gorgeous.

Which brought the question of… Why was she…?

Right now, Rachel just didn't have the energy to think about it. She'd worry more later.

Santana didn't have the energy or inclination to try to avoid Rachel's hug. If anything, she leaned into it slightly, though she didn't return it. As the girl left, leaving a sincere-sounding wish for her to feel better over her shoulder, Santana just watched her go. She almost called back to her to stay, but stomped down hard on the urge, unable to believe she was even experiencing it.

Slowly she pulled herself together in Rachel's absence, getting to her feet after a few minutes. Washing her face, blowing her nose, and running her fingers through her hair, she did what she could to repair the worst damage to her makeup, blocking the door with the trashcan so no one else could get inside. When she was finally presentable, she left the bathroom, then the schoolgrounds, but she still felt shaky and strangely weak.

She couldn't get Rachel out of her mind as she drove aimlessly in her car, and what was even stranger, she couldn't seem to stop thinking about the brief feeling of Rachel's arms around her. Almost like she still craved their presence.

She really had sunk low.


	3. Chapter 3

It had taken Santana two days to try to recover from what had happened between her and Rachel in the bathroom.

It had been more than the mortification, it was the shame that left her almost paralyzed even thinking about Rachel. Shame that Rachel would see her like that, that Rachel would pity her like that, but almost as much so, that Rachel would care. To think that after all she had done to her, all she forced Rachel to feel and do, that Rachel would then comfort her…over Santana's feelings for being exactly what she was currently blackmailing Rachel over being.

She couldn't shake herself from thinking about this, and for being unable to feel unsettled about it. She was ashamed of herself not just for what Rachel had seen, but what Rachel had done, or maybe more accurately, what she had done.

And that was why she completely avoided Rachel for two days. She didn't harass her in classes, she didn't meet up with her to get her homework. Santana actually did her own homework, as a matter of fact, and if she saw Rachel coming, turned and walked in another direction. Because she was avoiding Brittany too, and even Quinn, by extension, this meant a lot of time sitting in the bathroom during lunch, which was another ironic comparison to Rachel that she could hardly believe was happening. Even in Glee Club Santana was quiet, not daring to look at Rachel or Brittany, let alone speak to them or mock them or anyone, and though a few times Brittany tried to get her attention, Santana always shook her off.

After two days of this, she couldn't take it any longer. She had to do something about what had happened, or else Rachel might find a way to use it against her. She didn't think Rachel would, but she knew that she herself would have, in Rachel's place. So after school the day of her decision, she headed towards Rachel's house and waited outside the door for her to come home.

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Rachel planned on going home and napping on the couch, as she had been doing these past few days where she suddenly had the time. She was terribly off schedule, but she was also so exhausted that she doubted she'd have the energy for anything else.

The past two days had been… Well, she'd been on her toes the whole time. She still followed Santana's "rules", despite not having any direct contact with the girl, because for all she knew the Cheerio was gearing up for something bigger, maybe testing Rachel to see if she'd break and then use that as an excuse to out her.

But with the lack of extra homework and only one slushie to the face per day, and the fact that she was getting used to not talking to Finn much anymore, it had been a welcome reprieve, and she was taking advantage of it.

By sleeping.

Yawning, she turned the corner onto her street, then nearly braked at the sight of Santana outside her home, her fathers still at work, where they would be for quite some time.

Swallowing thickly, steeling herself as she turned into the driveway, Rachel turned off the key and got out, locking the door behind her and taking her to time in grabbing her things before she finally turned and walked up the steps to Santana, managing to look up at Santana's face as she asked, "May I help you, Santana?"

Actually seeing Rachel and having to talk to her and her impulsive DECISION to do so were two entirely different things, and Santana had to look past her rather than at her, steeling her nerve and readjusting her facial expression to one as blank as possible before she could respond.

"Your handwriting sucks, so…I'll do my own homework from now on."

This was as close right now as she could get to an apology, but it was still hard to say, and she didn't look her in the eye.

Rachel blinked, unable to school her expression before her jaw dropped slightly and her eyes widened in surprise. Out of all the things she had planned to happen, this… this hadn't been one of them.

"Oh… um… Okay." She wasn't sure when Santana had brought her down to single word sentences and monosyllables. But apparently that had happened.

Still wary of any possible plans the Latina had for her, Rachel slowly, cautiously moved around her to unlock the door, biting her lip and stepping aside a little. "Uh… would you… like to come in? Or something?" She wasn't totally sure what prompted the invite, but it had been the first thing that came to mind, and now that it was out there she wasn't going to take it back.

Even if Santana's stony expression made her kinda wish she could.

It was a bad, bad idea to accept the girl's invitation. For one thing, it was hard enough to talk to her when she wasn't looking at her. Surely she would have to talk to her if she actually went inside and…could she really be contemplating hanging out with Rachel Berry, when she didn't have to?

They would have nothing to say to each other, at least nothing that Santana could voice. They had exactly two things in common- Glee Club, and their alternate sexualities, and the latter was nothing Santana was about to tell her. Why would she accept?

And yet…it was freaking HARD, to go through her day with her head down, talking to no one. And as much as she hated what Rachel had seen…somehow, it made her feel almost as though she couldn't shock her anymore.

Slowly she nodded, then followed her inside.

She had gone into shock.

That was the only logical explanation for having Santana inside her house, now in her kitchen, as she offered the girl something to drink.

She was in shock, and therefore hallucinating.

"So… water? Orange juice? We have diet soda, as well. And uh… milk?" Very smooth, Rachel Berry. But why was she concerned about being smooth at all? It was Santana. She could literally stand atop the empire state building and do a swan dive into a pool, and nail it, and Santana would probably just make some snide comment about how it was amazing she hadn't been blown off course by the side of her nose.

And… she had definitely spent too much time listening to Santana speak apparently…

"We… We have snacks as well. Non-vegan, even. Daddy probably won't mind if you partake in some." Was she trying too hard? It felt like she as trying too hard. And for the girl who was blackmailing her, at that.

Shock. It had to be shock.

"Berry, you don't have to go into star hostess mode, you ain't getting a tip," Santana managed, feeling slightly better that she was able to say something at least slightly more like she usually would. She declined all offers of food and drink with a wave of her hand; when she was really trying to keep her weight down, she even limited water, just in case it made her look bloated.

She still wasn't sure why exactly she was here. To see if Rachel was going to ask her ten thousand questions? Why was she going to tempt fate like that? Or to see if she really was as good at holding her tongue about Santana's secrets as she was about her own?

It seemed the only thing she could do to put herself ahead of the game was to call her out right then, and so Santana drew herself, finally looking straight at her as she said directly, "I know you like to go into do-gooder mode and make people's lives miserable trying to "help" them, but if you tell anyone about the other day…look, maybe, MAYBE I'm not planning on telling people how you've got the female version of a hard on for me. But if you…if you tell about me, I'm gonna make it a national broadcast. Coach Sylvester has connections, I could if I had to."

Rachel turned to face Santana, eyes narrowing and jaw setting slowly as she listened to her speak. When the Cheerio was finished, Rachel took a step towards the other girl, actually being able to look her in the eyes.

"Santana, let's pretend I'm that kind of person; who would believe me? Who would possibly believe me if I told them that I saw Santana Lopez break down in the bathroom? Furthermore, anyone who even gave me the time of day would be too terrified of your wrath to _do anything _about it." She took another step up to Santana, now right in her personal space, and looked up at her.

"Second, I wasn't pretending to care the other day. Beyond my best judgment and every single right to mock you for it, I meant what I said. And it's not because I have a 'hard on' for you, as you so chose to put it. It's because I- " she paused, realizing that she was about to admit that there had been days that Santana had made her break down into tears, and redirected herself. "Because I know what it's like to be mocked, as I told you, and would not wish that pain upon anybody."

Finally, losing her resolve, Rachel looked down, taking a step back and glancing away from the other girl. "I'm very good at keeping secrets, Santana Lopez. I've kept them all my life…"

How the hell did this girl consistently know exactly what to do and say to make Santana hate herself for being a bitch, when most of the time, it was all she could take pride in?

Santana shook her head, more to herself than for Rachel's benefit, and unconsciously she crossed her arms, cradling her elbows close to herself as she flipped her hair back over her shoulder. Despite the defensive posture, though, a flicker of insecurity that she could not keep back crossed her expression, and she spoke again without quite planning it, her voice a little louder than usual.

"Well, I'm fine. That was like, a fluke. Like one of those things in the brain that misfires. Maybe I had an aneurysm or something. Yeah, that. Nothing to get all uptight over.

Nodding, stepping away from Santana fully now, Rachel crossed to the other side of the counter, fidgeting a little. "I don't really believe, but like every one else I'm also not in a position to argue," she conceded.

Then she bit back a yawn, turned away to hide it and going to the fridge, grabbing a bowl of freshly washed strawberries. She took them out, setting them on the counter and eating them slowly, glancing up at Santana every so often. "You can have some, if you want," she offered.

This was pretty much the most awkward moment of Rachel's life. She was sure of it.

Okay, why did Rachel keep offering her food? Maybe she wasn't being the nice little perfect hostess after all, like Santana thought at first. Maybe that was her own secret way of tormenting her. Maybe she was sneakily trying to prove that she knew, somehow, about the puke in the bathroom and what that had meant. If Santana ate, she might feel like she had to get rid of it later, and Rachel might find out. If she didn't eat, it would be proof that she had some kind of issue…Rachel was screwing with her, that was the only possibility.

Her face burning, Santana glared at her, her voice becoming much more hostile in tone. "That's not fucking funny. That the way you like to get in kicks, act like you're being innocent when you know exactly what you're doing? You want me to take off my shirt and dance and see how you like that too?"

Rachel stepped back, eyes going wide. "Santana I- That's not what I-" She drew into herself a bit, biting her lip. "I just thought… that maybe you would want something to… eat…?" She swallowed audibly.

It was perfectly natural to be afraid of Santana Lopez. Everyone was. And Santana had blackmail under her. And, well, okay she was also kind of scary when she glared at her like she was Rachel right now.

Weird how she could stand up to jocks no problem but Quinn Fabray and Santana Lopez made her feel oh so small…

Then, something clicked.

"Is this… about the… about the toilet..?" she asked, voice so tentative it was nearly a whisper.

She was STILL playing innocent. The way she was looking at her with those wide, blinking eyes, stepping back and swallowing, biting her lip…if Santana didn't know better, she would think Rachel really didn't intend to be mocking her by offering the food so often. But she had to be. She had to be, because….because no one could really be so nice, all the time, for absolutely no reason.

Except…that this was Rachel Berry. So maybe she could.

"Stop acting like you don't know what I'm talking about," she snapped, but again her face showed some hesitation, and her arms remained tightly crossed over her chest.

"Santana, I don't understand," Rachel replied, wrapping her arms around herself a bit. "What I saw… I mean I just…" She had never, to her knowledge, been at such a loss of words until she started talking to Santana Lopez on a semi-regular basis. It was frustrating beyond all belief, but she just didn't know how to speak to the girl.

She was constantly on edge; terrified of setting the Cheerio off.

"Maybe I have some ideas… as to what I saw. Maybe I have questions. Maybe I've wondered how a beautiful young woman like you could possibly be… would even think she needed to… do _that_. But honestly? You wouldn't answer me if I asked. And you'd probably just have the hockey team shower me in slushies."

But hitting Rachel, or even screaming at her, let alone making jocks harass her, was the last thing on Santana's mind in the moment. It was enough effort just to keep standing, to shift her eyes away from the girl before Rachel saw something in their surface she wouldn't want her to see.

All she could think about was one sentence of what Rachel was saying, or more specifically, one phrase. Beautiful. Rachel had called her beautiful, seemingly sincerely, inserting it into a flood of other words like it was nothing, a simple fact.

Beautiful was not a word that Santana heard very often in connection with herself. Hot, yes, sexy, of course, and comments about her boobs and legs were a given. But the kind of guys who were into Santana were not the kind of guys who called a girl beautiful, nor the kind of guys who thought that a girl like Santana would want or need to hear it.

The only person who called Santana beautiful was Brittany.

Her face is still flushed with color, but some of it is emotion rather than embarrassment or anger now as she steadily trains her eyes on the wall beside Rachel rather than at her. "Don't say shit like that, Berry…just because you've got a thing for me," she said finally, her voice rough, but her eyes are slightly wet. "That…beautiful talk. It's just stupid."

Brows furrowing, some of her fear ebbing away as the idea that maybe Santana _wasn't _going to get violent at her began to take hold, Rachel slowly let her body become a little less defensive.

"Santana… Have you _actually _looked at yourself in the mirror lately?" she asked, voice tinted with disbelief. "Okay, yes, I'm… I'm not-straight, but even if I were I'd be able to appreciate an attractive woman when one was in front of me. You're gorgeous. You've got these perfect cheek bones, and flawless li- eyes. Flawless eyes. And just-" She was blushing now, not used to actually putting her thoughts about other girls into actual words. "You're just, very beautiful."

If she ever wanted to convince Santana that she wasn't attracted to her, Rachel knew she was doing a terrible job. But she was already so deep into this conversation that it didn't matter.

"I'm not sure who ever gave you the idea that you were otherwise, but they're idiots."

Cheekbones? Eyes? Those were far from the first body parts Santana noticed when she looked in the mirror, nor were they the ones everyone else usually focused has an urge, listening to Rachel's all too earnest voice, to find the closest mirror to look for herself, to see what exactly it is that Rachel is talking about, because as much as she puts off the attitude to everyone that she knows, believes, and expects others to notice too exactly how hot she is, when it comes to actually feeling and believing it herself, truly, Santana just can't.

When she looks in the mirror, what she saw before her surgery were breasts that were embarrassingly small and slightly uneven in size, and now, all she sees is the small scars from the surgery. She sees her nose as too narrow, her chin as "strange," her eyes as too small, and her hair as not long enough or thick enough to satisfy her. And don't even get her started on her body. Her thighs are too fat, her ass is too small, her stomach isn't flat enough, she can only see her lowest two ribs, and her ankles are too skinny. What Santana sees of herself is a mass of mistakes.

But Rachel thinks she's beautiful.

Brittany thinks she's beautiful. Or maybe not anymore. Maybe it's hard to think someone is beautiful if you hate them.

She can't think of any sort of response to Rachel that won't be embarrassing in the extreme, so instead she slowly uncrosses her arms and runs a hand through her hair, clearing her throat and avoiding her eyes.

Rachel twisted her hands together at the silence, growing more and more anxious as it stretched out. "I just… Yeah… That's just my opinion, though…" she ended lamely, looking down and blushing fiercely.

Well, if she ever wanted to give Santana more ammo against her, this was probably the way to do it.

Just then her phone went off, making her jump and scramble to pick it up. She nearly dropped it, but was able to slide her thumb across the screen to answer it, not even looking at the screen to see who was calling. "Hello? Oh! Hi, Daddy." She managed to compose herself almost instantly, listening as her father spoke, and nodding her head. "We're going out tonight? … Alright, that sounds good. I'll see you when you get home." She smiled. "Yes, Daddy. That sounds fine. Mmhm. I love you, too. Bye, Daddy."

When the call ended, Rachel look back up at Santana, biting her lip. "Um. My father will be home in a little bit, so… Unless you'd like to meet him…?" She shrugged a little.

No, definite, resounding no. The last thing Santana needed was to meet Rachel's father- fathers?- and make them start asking questions too. Besides…meeting Rachel's fathers? This was already weird enough without really taking a detour down the wacky lane.

"No, I'm going," she shook her head quickly, already starting towards the door. "I'm…going. Bye."


	4. Chapter 4

Santana still wasn't sure exactly how this had happened. But somehow, she had started texting Rachel- only a line here or there, at first, and then this had become something like a conversation. And somehow today, she had ended up mentioning a party to Rachel and somehow, she had ended up asking her to come with her.

No matter how many times she read over the text conversation, she still couldn't quite understand how it had come about. But it was over and done with, and here she was- actually picking Rachel Berry up to go to a party.

What the hell was happening in her life?

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Sitting in her living room, dressed in what she hoped Santana would consider acceptable (dark wash capris and a purple and white striped polo, hair down and wavy with a new pair of sneakers), Rachel waited for the older girl to come pick her up. She had texted Noah for advice, and after he got over the shock, had just told her to look hot and casual.

This was the best she could do; she didn't own any club dresses like Santana did, nor skinny jeans.

Plus she wanted to be comfortable more than anything.

Honestly, Rachel was still trying to figure out how she had agreed to this.

Had she agreed to this?

When she offered Santana her company she thought they'd… well… be alone. She didn't expect the girl to drag her to a party as her "plus one", essentially. And it was fairly likely that Santana would abandon her in the midst of all of her drunk classmates, and probably get equally drunk, which meant she'd have to drive her home, and-

This was… This was going to be a very, very interesting night.

She heard a car horn honk then, and, checking her pockets to make sure she had her house key and drivers license, headed out to Santana's car and got in quickly, closing the door and barely having time to get her seatbelt on before the girl swirved out of the driveway and headed over to where Rachel assumed the party was.

"Good evening, Santana," spoke Rachel, trying to appear casual and not like she was anxious as to what Santana would say about her clothing.

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Santana still could hardly believe she was doing this.

WHY was she doing this, was the question. To get back at Brittany, somehow, even though Brittany didn't even know she was doing it? To keep from feeling pathetic by going alone, even though going with Rachel Berry was pretty pathetic too? To keep herself from having a stupid hook up that she'd feel awful about later, because being with Rachel Berry would be a buzzkill like nothing else?

Or did she really sort of want to go with her? Did she really sort of think that maybe it wouldn't be all that awful?

Santana didn't let herself analyze it too long. She had asked Rachel to go for whatever crazy reason, so no point wondering why now.

Santana had also spent much too much time deciding what to wear, how to do her hair and makeup…which, she told herself, was because she didn't know who might be at the party, not for Rachel or anything. Obviously.

As she drove up Rachel's driveway and honked the horn, her lips quirked partly in amusement, partly in disbelief as Rachel came out the door and got into the passenger seat. Eyes raking over her outfit, she commented, "Uh, Berry, this is a party. Not a Cabbage Patch Kids party, but like a real, actual party. With people over ten years old."

Rachel sighed, closing her eyes and fighting down the sharp constriction of her chest at Santana's words. "I don't know what that concerns, Santana," she said, trying to keep the bite out of her tone, for her own safety more than anything else. "I've never been to a party before." She had never been invited, ever.

The parties when they were in elementary school and the whole class had to be invited didn't count, because she'd spend all of an hour in a corner by herself before giving up and calling her daddies to pick her up.

"Besides, you won't even be around me once we get there. It's not like I'll be damaging your reputation."

Why had she agreed to this again? And with carpooling. And when her dads were out of town.

This was going to be 3rd grade all over again, except this time with alcohol, so probably worse. She'd probably be groped, or have beer thrown at her, or something of that nature.

Yes… This was definitely a terrible idea.

Okay, Santana had known that Rachel was a dork. But never go to a party, EVER? Seriously?

But then again…who would have invited her, before now? Her friends weren't the type to go to parties either. Santana still wasn't sure why she herself was taking her, so why was this surprising to her?

She hadn't yet backed out of the driveway, and as she slid her eyes to Rachel, looking her over critically again, she exhaled, speaking without really planning on what she had been about to say.

"Look, why don't you let me take over here? Go show me your stuff, surely something you own's gotta be better than this. A Glee outfit, even, something. I'll do your makeup too."

Less she think she was being too nice, she added quickly, "I can't totally embarrass myself."

When they parked back into Rachel's driveway, Rachel thought Santana was just going to kick her out at first. But then…

"You… what?" She looked at the girl, eyes wide and clearly in shock. Blinking, face going red from embarrassment, the diva ducked her head, nodding. "Oh. Okay. I'll just… um.. yeah." She got out of the car, unlocking the door and stepping aside for Santana to enter the house as well.

Once they were upstairs, Rachel sat down on her bed, watching as the Latina began to tear through her closet.

God this was embarrassing. Was she really that terrible at dressing herself? The animal sweaters were one thing— she didn't want any of the clothing she was fond of getting damaged by slushies. But apparently she was a lost cause in or outside of school…

Rubbing at her eyes, annoyed that her emotional side chose now of all times to make itself known and give her the urge to cry over something like this, Rachel bit the inside of her cheek to school her features. Her seeing Santana cry was one thing. But Santana seeing Rachel cry?

Absolutely not.

This was ridiculous. Everything Rachel owned was completely unacceptable to wear outside of a nursing home, in Santana's opinion, let alone to a party. Where did she even GET this stuff, straight off the Losers, Geeks, and Rejects rack?

She muttered comments to herself more than to Rachel as she dug through determinedly, finally finding a simple black spaghetti strapped dress that she figured if not exciting, at least couldn't make people point Rachel out as socially handicapped just by clothing. As she threw it over her shoulder on the bed, then went over to Rachel's dressing table, gathering up her makeup, she brought it over to her, telling her to sit on the bed.

"And no comments, I get all control. Don't move and don't tell me about natural beauty or anything crap like that."

But as she gestured for Rachel to sit, then went to stand in front of her, makeup brush in hand, she squinted her eyes at her, noticing for the first time the emotion in Rachel's face. Is the girl about to cry?

"What?" she asked, genuinely thrown. "I'm not gonna stab you with a mascara brush, chill out."

Remained silent, doing as she was told right up until Santana actually asked her a question. "What? No. I'm fine. Just… Just do whatever it is you're going to do." She felt tense all over, and her chest still ached as her stomach did uncomfortable flips, but as Santana moved her head side to side, applied some make here and some more there, Rachel kept herself composed and her expression controlled.

Her breathing was still a little shaky, but she had a feeling that was more because of the direct contact and close proximity than anything else…

15 minutes later her make up was done, and a small black dress that Rachel didn't even think she owned was dropped onto her lap. She looked down at it, then up at Santana, before hurrying into the bathroom attached to her room in order to change.

After all of this mess the last thing she needed was the other girl making comments about her body…

Santana rolled her eyes as Rachel disappeared into the bathroom to change. What, the girl had spent the past two years undressing around her in Glee and now all of a sudden just because Santana knew Rachel had a thing for her, it was a big deal? Whatever.

She didn't comment, though tempted, when Rachel returned, just looking her over with a critical eye before nodding. "I done a good work here, alright. You wanna make it tonight, I just gave you the best shot you're ever gonna have." Smirking, knowing Rachel would likely blush or protest this, she briefly took hold of her arm to pull her out of the room before dropping it quickly once outside. "Come on then, let's go."

It didn't take long to arrive at the party; it was only a few blocks down from her own house on Lima Heights, and it was immediately clear as they pulled up in front of the complex that this was not a party Rachel was accustomed to. Music boomed from the building, audible even from a distance, and the few people who were standing outside were either Hispanic or African-American, as most people of Lima Heights also were holding cigarettes, beer cans, or both. Santana raised an eyebrow at Rachel as she parked the car, turning to face her.

"Not gonna chicken out, are you?"

Rachel didn't stopped blushing until they were parked, an her eyes widened a bit at the sigh she was presented. She swallowed thickly, almost not even hearing Santana's question. "You wouldn't let me leave even if I wanted to," she replied, a little sharply, getting out of the car without another word.

Taking a deep breath, she put on her game face, and when some of the guys hollered at her, cat-calling, she swept into actress mode, and just offered them a quick smile before ignoring them completely and stepping up next to Santana as the Latina got out of the car, walking beside her past the few boys and girls out front and into the house.

Once inside, Rachel managed to keep up her courage and confidence, although she had absolutely no idea what to do now.

She turned to ask Santana, but then realized that the girl had already left her, and was probably somewhere in the crowd getting alcohol.

With a sigh, a little more visibly nervous than she had been a moment ago, Rachel moved further into the mass of people. Getting lost in the crowd and trying to avoid getting anything spilled on her dress.

Walking into the party, Santana slipped into the role that she was most comfortable with, the part of a girl who was very much confident and certain that every person in the room was either jealous of her, or else wanted to sleep with her. Whether or not she believed it didn't matter; if others did, then her job was a success. She deliberately swayed her hips and kept her cleavage slightly thrust out as she walked, boldly meeting the eyes of and touching nearly every male she passed as she sidled up to the drinks, lightly hipchecking the guy nearest them and running a hand up his arm as she took a beer for herself and for Rachel.

As she scanned the crowd, looking for Rachel, and opened her beer, taking a long swallow, she didn't see her right away. Trust Rachel to hang back by the wall instead of actually partying…or had someone already thrust her aside, dragged her off to a room?

Santana was surprised that the thought bothered her. As she quickly finished her beer, brow furrowed, and started on the one she had intended for Rachel, her eyes are still searching the crowd for her.

Rachel was about to go back to where she had last seen Santana, when a hand was on her hip. She spun around, eyes widening, meeting the gaze of a (handsome, if she may so say) young man with dark brown eyes and just the right amount of facial hair to be attractive instead of sleezy. "Hey, baby. Saw you walk in with Lopez. Ya wanna dance?"

Unable to keep from smiling, she bit her lip, raising a brow in slight challenge. "Could you keep up?" she asked, using her diva confidence for an altogether new purpose.

The young man grinned, making her blush, and took her hand, leading her to the dance floor. "Better find out, yeah?" he replied, twirling her smoothly.

Laughing, Rachel allowed herself to be spun and guided, hips moving and eyes sparkling. And as she grew more comfortable, she decided to get a little… risque, spinning around with her back to the boy's front, grinding smoothly back into her and actually giggling as he set his hands back on her hips and took control of the movement, leaning her back against his chest as they moved to the beat of the loud bass pumping through the speakers.

Of course she knew what he'd probably want; sex. And she definitely wasn't up for that. Not in the least.

But for now she was enjoying herself, and the guy was actually keeping his hands in mostly appropriate places.

Besides, she hadn't a hot guy show any interest in her since Finn, so why look a gift horse in the mouth?

She certainly wasn't going to get any women, and definitely not the one that actually made her… well… hot all over.

It took Santana several almost ten minutes, and a little terse questioning of people near her as well, before she finally located Rachel. By then she had downed a third beer as well and was starting to feel the buzz pretty heavily, her body loose, light, and not entirely seeming to belong to her, the music's vibrations seeming to strike her directly in the chest and set everything slightly off kilter around her. She was well on towards drunk but hadn't yet reached the critical point of embarrassing herself with it.

She let herself be distracted from looking for Rachel several times to accept people pulling her aside to paw at her under the guise of "dancing," but each time she found herself pulling back after a minute or two, distracted as she began to look for Rachel all over again.

When she actually saw Rachel, though, any attempts to pretend that she didn't actually care where she was or what she was doing were blown in a split second, because what Rachel happened to be doing was dancing. But not just dancing, dancing with Miguel Delgado, the guy who just happened to be the first guy Santana ever gave it up to, back in freshman year. Santana knew exactly what kind of guy Delgado was, and she was sure he could tell at a glance what kind of girl Rachel was too- one way too inexperienced to have the faintest clue he was leading her on.

They were dancing, and he was touching her, shit, he was GRINDING her, actually putting his dick somewhere in the vicinity of…and Rachel was laughing. Rachel was laughing, actually laughing, smiling…like she didn't have a clue what was going on or who he was or-

Santana didn't take time to analyze why it was that anger flared through her so strongly then, anger that had she really stopped to think about it, she might have relabeled as jealousy. Instead she began to squeeze her way rather violently through the crowd to the two, grabbing hold of both their arms and attempting to force them apart as she yelled over the music.

"Back off, Delgado, get your friggin' hands off her!"

Rachel squeaked as Santana forced herself between them, the guy backing off, hand sup. "Hey, chica! Relax! Me and the little mama here were just dancin'!" he exclaimed, winking towards Rachel over Santana's shoulder.

She blushed, brows furrowing as she frowned. "Santana, that was rude. I'm trying to have fun!"

Wasn't that what she was supposed to do here? Dance and whatever? Why was Santana stopping her? Because Santana definitely wasn't dancing with her so what else was Rachel supposed to do? She watched them argue back and forth in Spanish for a minute, and then the guy walked off, shaking his head and throwing his hands up in the air.

Pouting, Rachel spoke the second the Latina turned to face her. "What the heck, Santana?" she huffed, stomping her foot. "He was handsome, and dancing with me. And as difficult as it may be to believe that a guy would actually show interest in me, you could at least let it happen when it does! Why bother bringing me here if you're just going to make me out to be a loser every time someone shows interest in me?"

Her frown deepened, then. "Or was that the entire point? Bring me to a party just to show me, again, how lame and ugly I am in comparison to you? Because that's really cruel, Santana Lopez." She was getting emotional again, and before she lost it Rachel spun around, walking away quickly from Santana before the girl could get a word in.

Minutes later she found herself in the backyard, where there were even less people than out in front, a wine cooler in hand as she sat on the swing set and drank.

She didn't know why Santana always managed to get her from calm to crazy in a matter of seconds. But she wished she had more control over it. It was frustrating how the Latina had so much control over how Rachel felt— that Rachel cared so much about what the cheerleader thought about her.


	5. Chapter 5

By the time Santana had finished calling Delgado every Spanish insult she could think of, the words flying out her mouth without a second thought, and concluded her rampage by shoving hard at his chest, she herself almost stumbled back, nearly falling from the combination of her intoxicated state and her high heels. Someone nearby grabbed her arm and steadied her, but Santana yanked her arm out of his grasp, only interested in the moment in finding Rachel again.

That was no challenge; Rachel found her, and began to do some voice-raising of her own that Santana could hardly follow. Rachel was put out that Santana had chased Delgado off, saying something about Santana making her look like a loser, and being cruel…trying to make Rachel look ugly and lame? It made no sense to Santana, and she didn't know if she just wasn't understanding her right over the music or if Rachel really did think that.

"I was not, I was helping you, Berry, I was-" she started, but Rachel was running off in a huff, and before Santana knew it she had lost her again in the crowd.

Bewildered, a little miffed, Santana tried yelling out over the music for Rachel with anger in her tone at first, but then genuine worry as she began to search for her again. Someone snagged her arm again, handing her another beer and trying to pull her close, but she wiggled away, opening and beginning to work on the beer absently as she continued to search for Rachel. By the time she had finished it she was working herself into a state of near hysteria, half convinced that Delgado had found and pulled her away upstairs and was having sex with her right then in that moment.

That shouldn't bother her, it wasn't her business. She didn't give a shit about Delgado anymore, and Berry was a big girl. If she wanted to be dumb and go with a guy like him…

But thinking about that made Santana's stomach lurch in a way she was pretty sure she couldn't attribute to the beer, and she stumbled upstairs, yelling Rachel's name and throwing open doors, growing more visibly upset when she couldn't find Rachel behind any of them. However, Delgado happened to be one of the unhappy pairings she walked in on, and as he started to curse her out again in Spanish, she staggered towards him, screaming, barely recognizing her own voice.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO WITH RACHEL?"

"I didn't do anything with her, you're a fucking psycho, Santana!" he yelled back, scrambling to cover himself and his girl in the bed. "Last I saw she was going outside, she was probably trying to get away from you and I couldn't blame her for it, you crazy bitch!"

It took another ten minutes to make her way downstairs and through the crowd to check outside, and by the time she finally managed to locate her she had managed to work herself up into a state of such emotional upheaval that she no longer could tell if she were angry, panicking, or about to cry. Her heartbeat galloping wildly, face flushed, she almost ran up towards where she could see Rachel's form sitting on the swing, ignoring the few others around her as she almost screamed at her even from ten feet away.

"Where were you, I thought you were getting ass-banged or something, where have you been?! You just run off like that and are GONE all night, why did you just LEAVE?"

Rachel hadn't even realized how long she had been outside. But she had gone through three wine coolers, and was definitely not sober anymore. Then she heard screaming- specifically Santana, screaming at her, and nearly fell off the swing.

She managed to stand up, though was unsteady, and it was like all that time calming herself down was for nothing because she was immediately near tears ago. "I WAS ANGRY," she yelled back, eyes glistening with tears. "And why do you care!? Why do you keep doing- doing- THIS!" She waved her hands around, as though they would be able to explain things better than her words could at this moment. "You make fun of me and torture me and now you're acting like you actually cared and _I don't understand._"

Practically in hysterics, and now definitely crying, two parts confused, one part angry, and at least three parts frustrated and sad, Rachel sniffled, chest heaving as she struggled to regain control of her breath, which was completely irregular.

She just felt so _out of control_.

And she couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or Santana or both anymore.

"F-fine. Maybe that guy was- whatever. But you. And you're just. And why are you always-" She couldn't even finish her sentence anymore, brain completely in a tizzy from the alcohol and all of the feelings she was experiencing in sudden waves. And she was still crying. In front of Santana Lopez.

She knew she should have stayed in bed today.

Rachel was crying. Actually CRYING. Santana could tell, even though she herself was drunk, that Rachel wasn't exactly sober, and she hadn't exactly been very nice in how she had come across to her. Weirdly enough, she felt sort of bad for making her cry…definitely a first. But it was what Rachel was trying to say, but not outright coming out with, that really got to her.

She kept starting to say that Santana was…something. That she was just…something…and always…something…but she wouldn't finish her sentence. She wouldn't finish her sentence, but it was clearly something negative she meant to say, and though Santana couldn't have begun to explain why knowing this hurt, it did. Enough so that even as she yelled back, she also simultaneously burst into tears, though admittedly this may have had something to do with her drinking as much as with hurt feelings.

"I'm just WHAT, Rachel, I'm just WHAT? Ugly? Mean? Nasty? Bitchy? Someone no one could ever like or want or want to be around because I'm so horrible? Is that what you're trying to say?!"

The few kids that were around them were leaving in a hurry now, not wanting anything to do with the melodrama and tears that were brewing now, because one thing that would bring down their fun was dealing with a couple of drunk bawling girls. As Santana sank down on the swing beside Rachel, head lowered, arms locked around her stomach, she continued half yelling, half sobbing the rest of her words to her.

"I'm trying to be NICE to you…I did your hair and makeup and made you look sort of hot and I took you here, and I said I'd hang out with you even though now everyone probably is going to Slushee me Monday and I was trying to HELP you, I was keeping that asshole away from you because he's the dick who called me Hole In One and he'll do that to YOU because I know you're a virgin and he's got a THING for virgins even if they are fourteen and he was 21, he's 23 now and he's STILL TOO OLD even though you had that thing for that Jesse asshole and he looks like a 40 year old Grease reject…you still don't trust me and I'm trying to help you!"

Rachel sat on the swing next to Santana, hiccuping and sniffling the girl's words sink in, still unable to stop the sobs that escaped her chest every so often.

When Santana finished, she was silent for a minute or so, and then curled up into herself a bit on the swing. "You're pretty," choked out Rachel. "P-retty, and popular, and- and-" She sniffled, looking over at Santana with big, expressive eyes, full of tears. "And you're just so- so _confusing._Cause- cause you _did _do all that stuff f-for me and even if someone sl-slushiied you Monday you'd do- do you Lima H-Heights thing and they wouldn't again and I just-"

She sobbed, looking back to the ground, wrapping her arms around herself. "You're_ not_ _nice_. And- and you've treated me _terribly _at times. And it's so stupid. _I'm _stupid. Because you still make me feel all these stupid th-things and I hate how much I care about what you say because it just ends up hurting and you're _straight _and g-gorgeous and I'm just an idiot girl who- who can't dress and falls for assholes and-" She started crying again, her words choking out and mascara starting to run.

"I just wanted to feel sexy tonight," sobbed the smaller girl. "And now- now I'm just stupid."

All she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and pretend this had never happened that. That she hadn't convinced herself for a few minutes that she could be like Santana, all confident and sexy, and had just made a fool out of herself, to the point where the older girl had to save her from getting taken advantage of, and that she wasn't bawling her eyes out, with no control over what she was saying.

But she was drunk, and a sobbing mess, and no matter how much she wished for it not to be true it was, and she definitely wasn't ever going to live this down.

If Santana was worried about getting a slushie to the face Monday, Rachel was sure she'd get the whole machine dumped on her now.

And there she was again, seeming to know exactly what to say and do to hurt. Rachel's crying, the wounded look in her eyes, made Santana feel like she WAS the terrible person that Rachel thought she was, like she was the main cause of the girl being in such a state. But somehow, even more than Rachel crying, even more than Rachel saying she isn't nice, it's the COMPLIMENTS thrown in there that hurt.

It would make more sense to her and be more readily believed if Rachel kept saying things about her that were mean. But Rachel was saying she was gorgeous. Rachel was saying she was pretty, and popular, and…protective, in a way. Rachel was saying she was STRAIGHT.

All of that was so wrong to Santana, and yet how could she correct her?

For perhaps another minute she didn't answer Rachel, still crying too, though less hysterically than Rachel was. But when Rachel showed no signs of slowing down and in fact seemed on the verge of hyperventilating, Santana started to pull herself together, taking in several deep breaths and beginning to swipe at her cheeks with both palms. Rolling her head back to continue trying to slow down her breathing, she sniffed several times, then, more composed, looked back at Rachel, clearing her throat, before awkwardly trying her hand at calming her too.

"Uh…Berry? Calm down, all right? Look, you're gonna end up choking or throwing up or something, and that's like, the one decent outfit you have."

This doesn't seem to be producing the desired response though, so after a few moments Santana takes another deep breath and tries again, awkwardly laying a hand on Rachel's back. "Berry. Rachel. Look, uh…I won't let them slushee you, all right? And you're not an idiot. You're like a super genius actually, okay? And you were totally hot tonight. I don't let people leave out of my hands any less, all right? Let's…let's just go, ok?"

Rachel could only nod, somewhat frantically, wiping at her eyes and trying remember all the different breathing exercises she knew as she tried to calm down. It was sort of working, a little. She wasn't sobbing so hard anymore, at least.

She stood up with Santana's help, then swayed, clinging to the other girl like a life-line, actually _hugging _her practically. "Y-you're hot, t-too," she mumbled, slurring her words a bit. "You're always— you're _always _hot. And- and not like- not like sex h-hot—" She hiccuped. "I mean- that too, cause- cause sex. But also like- like go on dates hot. Or- or something?" Rachel honestly didn't know what she was saying anymore.

Well, she did. But she couldn't stop it.

It was like words would come to mind and she had to say them.

And she barely registered that Santana was walking them around the house, to the car, she just kept talking and crying. "I don't- I don't wanna be slushied Monday. You- you'd really do that?" she asked as she was put into the front seat, sniffling, unable to believe that Santana would keep her from being slushied. "No one's ever done that before."

Another wave of tears, and she tried wiping at her eyes again. "M'sorry. I don't- Why am I like this? It's- I don't like it. And I'm tired. And my head hurts. And I didn't even get to- to dance _with you_," continued to ramble the drunk girl."I _really wanted to_. You- you dance _so well_, and I just thought that maybe-" She managed to stop herself, but hiccuped again, swallowing thickly and leaning her head against the window. "I dunno…"

Rachel was so damn close to her.

Way, way too close, her skin warm and flushed and slightly damp from her crying. She was practically snuggling her, and the weirdest part was Santana wasn't really annoyed or wanting to shrug her off or yell at her. She sort of didn't mind it much.

She tried to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, on making sure that Rachel was too as she very, very slowly guided them both back to her car, opening Rachel's door for her and settling her inside, even buckling her seatbelt for her. She barely hears what Rachel is babbling about, though something about Santana being hot and wanting to dance with her registered dimly. For some reason the girl's continual sporadic compliments makes her want to cry again, but she bites down on the inside of her cheeks and blinks several times and manages to control it as she slides into the driver's seat and start up the car.

Her own head is beginning to ache rather badly, and as she drives at the pace of a snail, trying to stay between the lines, she mutters to Rachel more tiredly than with actual bite, "Can you please stop talking? My head hurts too, you know."

"S-sorry…" mumbled Rachel, eye drooping and crying dying down to a few tears here and there and some soft sniffles. The was, in fact, silent after that, not having the energy for anything else anymore.

She didn't know where they were going, her house or Santana's, and didn't really care at this point. She just needed a bed. And maybe some water? But she partially felt that if she had water she'd get sick. Or really, if she had anything she'd get sick.

Not that she felt particularly queasy, though. Rachel was pretty sure she wasn't going to actually throw up. So at least there was that.

At some point, she whispered, voice hoarse from crying and just loud enough for Santana to hear, "Thanks for… for trying, Santana." Maybe Rachel just wasn't meant for parties, or drinking, or whatever else normal teenagers did.

Maybe she was just destined to be the stereotypical loser with big dreams and stars in her eyes until she got to New York.

But at least Santana had given her a chance.

It was more than most everyone else in Lima bothered with.

Her house was closest, and Santana was sure that her mom, brother, and abuela would be asleep, her dad either on a call or else zonked out watching TV or typing on his computer in his office, so her place was the logical one to go to. As she pulled into her driveway, she muttered to Rachel over her shoulder, "Call your dads or whatever, I ain't driving you home tonight, so…"

She left the sentence dangling, then added quickly, "I've got a big bed so we'll put pillows in between or whatever, don't get any ideas, Berry. Try anything and you're taking the floor, and I'll show you what it means to go Lima Heights for real."

As she checked her reflection in the mirror, on the off chance that she would see a family member, and cringed at the reddened eyes and smeary makeup she saw, she hurriedly snapped the mirror back up where she wouldn't have to look, not bothering to try to fix anything. Getting out, she opened Rachel's car door and hauled her to her feet, beginning to slowly guide her inside the house and then towards her bedroom.

"Don't talk, my abuela snores through the night most of the time but if she had to go use the bathroom or something she's got ears like a bat," Santana muttered as they started down the hallway.

"Dads out of town 'member?" she mumbled as Santana hefted her to her feet after undoing her seat belt. She mostly heard the rest of what the Latina said, in bits and pieces, but really only registered the "don't talk" part of it all.

She was pretty used to being told that by the other girl by now, and was definitely too sleepy and drunk to even attempt to argue.

Once inside Santana's room, the door closed and locked, Rachel stumbled out of her shoes, practically falling into the middle of the bed, dress and all, curling up into a little ball and closing her eyes. She sniffled, the scent of Santana's blankets slamming into her senses and making her dizzy, though not in a bad way, really. And without thinking, because she was so clearly beyond thinking it wasn't funny, she bunched up the blankets haphazardly around her and buried her face in them.

"Sleep…" murmured the girl, looking even smaller than usual on the large bed, curled up and drowsy.

Santana was more slow to get into the bed. Particularly since Rachel had just taken up as much of it as her tiny body possibly could.

She just looked at her for a few moments after Rachel had snuggled in, wondering drowsily why she wasn't irritated as hell with her, and mentally shrugged it off to being tired herself. Taking off her own shoes and flinging her dress into a ball in the corner, she didn't bother to get into pajamas. She usually slept in her underwear, and she wasn't about to let Rachel Berry make her change, even if the girl did have a thing for her. That was Rachel's problem, not hers.

She considered putting the pillows between them, like she'd discussed, or shoving Rachel over to only be on one side, but in the end she just lay down, trying to give herself some space from her, but not caring nearly as much as she would have thought if they ended up overlapping. Closing her eyes, she drifted off to sleep. It wasn't until the morning that she realized that despite her drinking, she hadn't at any point in the night worried about it enough to make herself vomit.


	6. Chapter 6

The more Santana thought about it, over the next couple of days after the disaster of a party she had dragged Rachel to, the more bothered she became.

There were a lot of things to be bothered about with it. Of course, there was the Delgado thing; the guy was a player and Santana knew it better than anyone, and she wasn't sorry she had yanked Rachel out of his grasp. What did sort of bother her was just HOW mad she got when she thought about him touching her or deceiving her, and how upset it had made her later when Rachel was upset with her. She had let RACHEL BERRY make her cry, regardless of whether alcohol had had a hand in that, and what did THAT mean? Why did she suddenly care what Rachel thought about her? Why did she care now if she hurt Rachel's feelings?

The little sleepover thing, Rachel's icy skin pressed against hers as she unconsciously sought out Santana's warmth…why had Santana not shoved her away? Why had she not been pissed off at her for making her uncomfortable like that in her own bed?

All signs were pointing her to getting some kind of soft spot for Rachel Berry, and Santana really didn't know what to think about that.

She wasn't torturing Rachel like she used to; the thought didn't even sound vaguely fun anymore. In fact, if she thought about other people hurting her, it pissed her off. But above all else, one thing was sticking out to really get to Santana…and that was what Rachel had said, while she was drunk.

Not the part about Santana being so mean; Santana herself knew that was true. But the rest of it. About being gorgeous and pretty and hot, about being popular and confident and…straight.

None of it was true. None of it. Maybe that was how Rachel saw it, but Santana herself could not. If anyone thought she was attractive, it was because she had pumped up her boobs and slathered on makeup, worked herself daily to be as fit as possible. If anyone thought she was popular, it was just because people were afraid to cross her, not because anyone really liked her. Confident? She hated herself as much as any of the other girls, maybe more. And straight? It was what she wanted and hoped to wake up to be every single day and it hadn't happened yet.

The more she thought about it the more it bothered her, until it dawned on her why. Rachel, honest, overly earnest Rachel, idolized her for those things that weren't even true.

It shouldn't matter, she guessed. Didn't she want people to think those things were true? But somehow Rachel thinking it seemed different and wrong, until she found herself texting Rachel to meet her in at her car after school. She waited until the girl was inside and drove silently, refusing to tell her where she was going or what she was doing or the reason for this meeting, because she was afraid if she opened her mouth she would lose her nerve entirely. And when she finally parked in an area as deserted as she could find, turning to face Rachel, the words poured out in a flood that build up speed and volume as she went on.

"We have to get something straight here, Berry, okay, and don't interrupt me because…because I just have to say it, okay, and if you talk too much, I won't. You think all this shit about me that's not true, like it's some…fantasy thing, built up in your head, and it's…it's all bullshit. I want people to think it's true, but you…you're all into that honesty crap and so you…you shouldn't, okay? Because it's not. First off…I'm not…I'm not pretty, okay? I have fake boobs, I go to the tanning bed, I have extensions, I wear makeup, I work out for hours every day, I have scars and if I eat too much, well…you KNOW what I do to deal with that, okay, so don't ever tell me again how I'm so pretty and you're so not because that's bullshit. And the popular thing…no one even likes me, Rachel, you included, so that's bullshit too. And the other stuff you said, about…well about…"

Here she could hear her voice starting to shake, and she took in several nearly gulping breaths, trying to force the words out before she lost her nerve. They came finally, but they were nearly a whisper as a tremor spread through her hands and then up her arms, sweeping down her torso until she was shuddering bodily.

"I'm not…straight…okay? I'm…Rachel, I'm…don't you EVER fucking say a word but I'm…I'm gay. So…that's what I am, so…don't…don't think that stuff…it's not…it isn't true."

When Santana picked her up and started taking weird turns and getting to a more scarcely and scarcely populated area, Rachel was pretty sure she was going to die.

Which was unfortunate, because she hadn't even gotten to New York yet, much less on the Broadway stage. But she kept her mouth shut, trying not to look as anxious as she felt, and when they stopped at a nearly deserted part on the outskirts of town, before she could get a word in, or ask any questions, Santana was looking at her, telling her not to speak, and… talking. Rambling almost.

And with every word her eyes got wider, and wider, and by the time the Cheerio finished — confessed, really — Rachel just… wasn't sure what to say.

Should she be angry at Santana for blackmailing her when she, too, liked women?

Should she be… supportive? Or.. nonchalant…?

She stared at Santana, mouth slightly agape as her brain tried sifting through everything the girl had just said, because there had been a lot of it, figure out how to say words.

Maybe… Maybe just starting from the top would work.

"I… I still think you're beautiful…" she began, voice quiet, but more confident than she expected. "I know you have naturally tan skin as well, because I remember what you looked liked when we were younger. While I personally would never get implants, it's your body, and I respect that you chose to. Furthermore, there's nothing wrong with make up, or hair extensions. As for… as for the throwing up… I wish you wouldn't, because that alone tells me you don't see yourself the way you should…" Swallowing hard, keeping her eyes on Santana's face, she went on. "And… while, it's true that I don't really like you, that has more to do with your treatment of me, than who you are as a person. I don't know anyone but Santana the bully, after all. So it's rather hard to make a real judgement as to your character…"

She licked her lip, settling back in the seat now, and looking down at her lap, hands twisting. "Finally…" She took a deep breath, closing her eyes to give her strength. "This is not pity, first and foremost. What I am going to offer is out of knowledge of how hateful this town can be, so do not twist my words." She glanced at Santana, then looked forward. "If you need a safe place— some place where you will not be judged for who you are, my house is open to you, and I, and my fathers, will provide you with listening ears."

Santana could hardly believe what she was hearing.

She didn't know what she expected, exactly. For Rachel to be angry, maybe. For Rachel to be upset with her, that for as long as she had known her, for all the time she had tortured her, Santana herself had been living a lie. For Rachel to tell her that she was a coward and the worst kind of hypocrite. For Rachel to get out of the car and to walk couldn't have blamed her for any of those reactions.

But maybe by now she should have known better. Maybe she should have realized that however annoying Rachel Berry could be, her very nature and grace was much more than Santana could comprehend or imagine. Maybe she should have known already that all Rachel seemed even capable of offering her was understanding and support.

Rachel still, STILL thought she was beautiful. And Rachel was offering her a safe place…with her.

The shame that Santana felt then twisted up sharply within her heart, and she sucked in her breath, lowering her eyes to her lap. All the cruel things she had said and done to this girl, using her sexuality and insecurity and even her kindness against her…and this was what she got in return.

She meant to apologize. She meant to thank her. But when she opened her mouth, no words came out, and instead she broke into tears that shook through her frame convulsively. As she doubled over, gasping for breath, suddenly unable to see through them, she tried again to apologize, but only one word emerged.

"…sorry…"

Rachel wasn't sure what she should have expected, but for Santana to completely break down (while sober as far as she was aware) had not been in the cards.

Yet, here she was, sitting next to a sobbing Latina, and completely unsure of how to handle it.

After all, she had never had to comfort another person before…

Biting her lip, she carefully reached out her hand, taking Santana's and lacing their fingers together, squeezing it between both of her own hands as a means of offering some sort of physical support— an anchoring, even. "A- Apology, accepted, Santana…" She wasn't sure exactly what the girl was saying sorry for (the crying, the bullying, etc, all of it), but her answer would have been the same either way.

She knew that she'd have some bitterness to work through, but outside of the stage, Rachel just didn't know how to hold a proper grudge.

Especially not because of something like this.

Beyond that, she had been serious when she offered Santana a safe space, and there was no way she was going to back out of that now. Her fathers had raised her better than that, after all.

This was mortifying.

This was beyond what she would ever have expected to show anyone, especially when stone cold sober. This is beyond what Santana would ever accept herself showing to another human being. But this is what she is feeling now, and she can't even try to hold it back. For nearly five full minutes, which might seem like a short time to say aloud, but felt like an eternity for her to experience, she remained almost doubled over in the driver's seat, her forehead resting against the steering wheel, one hand digging into her cheek as she cried, feeling all the emotion and all the fear, all her anger and resentment over keeping such a huge part of herself hidden away even from herself for so long, began to drain away, bit by bit. She cried, holding onto Rachel's hand with a tight grip, as though needing the contact to keep herself intact, and in a way she felt that she did.

After the first minute or two her embarrassment and shame began to fade, and it became almost a relief to let herself go limp against the steering wheel, to relax her hand in Rachel's as her tears slowed, but continued to emerge in a more controlled manner. When they finally finished entirely, Santana was exhausted, knowing and feeling like a complete mess, but somehow it didn't really feel bad at all. It almost felt right. Like she had finally turned herself in a direction she had long ago forgotten to go.

Sitting up, she scrubbed at her cheeks with the palm of her hand, then realizing that this really wasn't adequate, turned to look for a kleenex or tissue in the side of her car door. Still turned away, she cleared her throat, squeezing Rachel's fingers a last time before letting them go.

"Sorry."

Like Rachel she wasn't sure if she was apologizing for the tears, the cruelty, or both

Rachel nodded, setting her hands back into her lap. "As I said, apology accepted." She sat quietly, allowing Santana time to pull herself together, and chanced a glance at the girl.

"Would you… like to come over for a time? My fathers are still gone, and won't be back until tomorrow around noon," she spoke after finally being able to work up the courage to ask. She'd be lying if she said her reasons for asking were completely unselfish, really. She didn't want to be home all alone, and as much as she'd deny it, she did feel… _something _for Santana. Some kind of attraction.

She couldn't really be blamed for wanting to spend time with the Latina, under circumstances that possibly translated as… almost civil, maybe.

Smiling a little, Rachel shrugged. "We could celebrate your first steps out of the closet, if you'd like. I could even make rainbow cup cookies?" Was this a bad time for humor? The right time?

Admittedly, Rachel had no idea.

All Santana had found was a crumpled paper towel she had suspected was already used, but if that was the best she could do, screw it. She used it to fix her makeup and blow her nose the best she could, still avoiding Rachel's eyes. It was amazing how quiet the girl was being, giving her time to get herself together, though it was actually a little uncomfortable. Where was the babbling, nervous Rachel she was used to?

Ah, there she was. Rainbow cookies? Was the girl serious?

Turning towards her, composed now, she shook her head, her voice not quite as fierce as it normally would be, but no less adamant. "You can't tell ANYONE. I mean it. No rainbows, no support parades, no buttons, bows, or signs. I mean, I get it, it's exciting to you that your dream girl has been knocked down to your level or whatever but don't you dare…just…no."

"I mean…I'll come over. I guess," she amended with sigh, leaning back in her seat and letting her eyes half shut as one hand moved to trace absently across her temples. "But no…gay pride shit. Because I'm not exactly feeling the pride, okay? And NO ONE knows so…just don't."

Rachel ducked her head, embarrassed. "It was… supposed to be a joke. I apologize." Clearing her throat, she looked at Santana then, nodding in earnest. "I would never out someone, Santana. You have my word. But there is _nothing _to be ashamed of. And I will actually fight you on that, for as long as needed."

She didn't say another word as they started driving back into town, headed to Rachel's house.

As she processed what had just occurred in the past 15 or so minutes, Rachel couldn't help but sigh quietly. It wasn't even the middle of the year, not even close, and her entire world was being turned upside down. In more ways than she ever cared to imagine.

But for the better? She honestly didn't know.

As they got to Rachel's neighborhood the silence started bear down on her, and she started to fidget. She considered several possible conversation starters, but each one ended up being shot down by the Santana in her head, and so, biting her tongue, physically, to keep quiet.

It was easily the longest she had ever gone without saying _something_, and it was driving her insane.

Rachel Berry fighting her was such a ridiculous image that Santana actually cracked a smile. "You wish you could fight me, Berry. Lima Heights born and bred here, remember? I'd knock you out before you could cock past a puppet-sized fist."

She didn't say anything else for the rest of the drive to Rachel's house, her mind still racing with her confusion as to what exactly it was she was doing. This made three times in the past few weeks she had voluntarily hung out with Rachel Berry, three times she broke down crying in front of her too, and what exactly did that say except that she was completely pathetic and hitting rock bottom? How sad did that make her to suddenly be practically Rachel's…Rachel's project or something? Maybe even Rachel's best friend?

She cringed inwardly at the thought, but at the same time…Rachel was treating her better than her other friends probably would. No way would Quinn forgive her so fast or show such sympathy; the most they ever got affectionate with each other was to say "you're such a loser, bitch" in an affectionate tone. And she still could hardly stand to look at Brittany, despite the blonde's efforts to reach out.

She was actually starting to kind of LIKE Rachel. Annoying and quirky as she was, she did have some spunk to her, and she wasn't one to back down in things she believed in…she was..weirdly cute, sometimes, even. And she was NICE. Santana actually liked that she was NICE. And that was almost frightening as everything else.


	7. Chapter 7

When they finally got to Rachel's house, the girl nearly jumped out of the car before it was even parked. She grabbed her backpack, waiting by the car for Santana to get out of it and then making her way up the steps and unlocking the door, stepping aside for Santana to walk in, and following after her.

The moment the door was closed Rachel set aside her backpack, and, despite all of her self-preservation instincts going off like crazy, stepped in to give Santana a quick, but firm hug.

She pulled away, taking a step back and clearing her throat, ignoring the blush on her cheeks. "I am… I just wanted to say that, well, you may not be 'feeling the pride', as you said, but… But _I'm _proud of you. I know it doesn't mean much of anything, but it's true. Admitting that you're… that you're not straight is scary. And you're really strong for being able to say it out-loud, even if it's just to me."

Her body was still tingling from the quick hug, but she pushed that feeling aside. Now wasn't the time.

"And also if you're going to hit me for the hug please avoid my nose."

Why the hell was Rachel so freaking touchy feely?

Santana knew the girl was enthusiastic to put it lightly. But these hugs…it seemed like every time she turned around the girl was hugging on her or hanging on her or doing…something…to be touching her. And the weirdest part was she sort of didn't mind it. Who else touched her like that, without it being harsh correction of her form, as in Sue or other cheerleaders, sexual, like with Puck or other guys, or detached, like her parents?

She was NOT letting her mind go to Brittany.

Just in case something showed in her face, she let Rachel linger, trying to rearrange her features to one's of amusement as she looked back at her. "Nah, if I was gonna punch you I'd go for your boobs, that way I get in violence and a free feel all at once."

Ha, surely that would make her squirm

Rachel's mouth fell open a slight as her arms immediately went up to cover her chest, expression caught somewhere between disgust, a little fear, and… she wasn't sure what else. "R-right. I'll just… Can I get you something?" she rushed out, turning away from Santana quickly and trying to school her features.

What was _with her_?

Had someone like Noah dared to say such a thing she would have given them a piece of her mind, full of righteous indignation. But with Santana she just felt…_flustered_.

She hurried to the kitchen, clearing her throat as she all but hid herself behind the fridge door, looking for something to snack on. There was some left over vegan lasagna, which looked good. But the fruit salad seemed more appropriate for a snack.

Grabbing it, she took the bowl out, and nearly dropped it when she saw Santana by the counter.

She hadn't heard the girl following her at all. Had she really been that far in her head? She needed to stop that, but Santana always kept her on her toes whether Rachel liked it or not. "Fruit salad?" she offered, voice sounding a lot more calm than she felt.

Yeah she had definitely made her squirm. Finally, she had a little control back here.

Santana grinned to herself, surprised that she did genuinely feel sort of happy as she watched Rachel flush and hide herself behind the fridge door, getting suddenly busy finding food. As Rachel offered her food, her smile slipped, and she looked down at it, subtly breathing in. It was fruit, usually food she was okay to eat and digest in small quantities, but somehow it was different with Rachel watching. The girl knew about her food…thing…and she would be watching her eat and judging every bite, then probably all but safeguard the bathroom afterward. Yet if she didn't eat then Rachel would surely have something to say about that too.

"You gonna make something of it if I don't or watch every second if I do?: she asked finally, eyebrows raised, voice a little harder than she intended.

Hesitating for a moment, then shrugging, Rachel replied, "No…? I just thought… maybe you'd be hungry, or something. I could get you something to drink instead?" She was trying, rather hard, to not make a_huge _deal out of the fact that Santana had… well, an eating disorder.

She'd keep offering Santana food, because that's a good host, and friend, did, but…

Maybe she wanted to help more. Maybe she wanted to get Santana to actually talk about it, or eat more, or something. But she just didn't know how to do it without the girl just shooting her down and leaving. Really, if Rachel was going to help at all, about anything, she needed Santana to at least… not want to punch her, or something.

"I just… want to make sure you're comfortable," she went on, keeping her hands busy by trying to get a bowl from the top shelf. She hated when her dad did this. He'd wash dishes late at night and put the bowls on the top shelf without thinking. Rachel hadn't had to use any since they left, so she hadn't noticed it earlier. Now it was just embarrassing having to stretch up on her tip-toes like this right in front of Santana.

Comfortable in the home of Rachel Berry…that was a strange idea. Comfortable, anywhere, as long as she was living in her own skin, if she was gonna be totally honest. Except on stage. The one time that Santana truly felt beyond herself, whole and pure and powerful, was when she was singing, when she was able to put into words and song all her feelings, even if they were not ones she herself had come up with.

She didn't say this to Rachel, though. Instead she leaned back against the counter on one elbow, picking up a serving spoon and toying with it in her hands as she looked back at her. She had never tried to explain this to anyone before, and it felt strange, to talk about herself almost like she was another person.

"Look, Rachel. The only way I'm gonna be comfortable is if you don't mention it. Just…like, if you're eating, leave it out and…if I get some I get some. Just don't make it a big thing because then you're gonna make me think about it more, so just…just leave it."

Nodding, she finally managed to grab a bowl, setting it on the table and getting a fork out for herself as well. Scooping the fruit salad in her bowl, Rachel sat down on one of the stools next to the counter, taking a bite of her snack.

Now what, she wondered.

People usually talked about things right about now, right? School, hobbies, etc, etc. Except she didn't know what was and what wasn't off-limits with Santana.

In her personal experience, speaking at all was off-limits to her when it came to the Cheerio, after all. She had lost count how many times the Latina told her, one way another, to shut up.

"So… What would you like to do?" In hindsight, no, she hadn't really planned this out. She just hadn't wanted to be alone.

Santana watched Rachel eat out the corner of her eye, her eyes flickering occasionally from Rachel's serving to the bowl to Rachel's bowl again. After a few minutes, and after she had memorized every piece of fruit in Rachel's bowl, including what she had already consumed, she slowly got out a bowl for herself and deliberately scooped out approximately half as much as Rachel had gotten. When she stood against the counter again though she didn't start eating right away, still sure that Rachel was watching.

When Rachel asked her what to do, her eyebrows rose. She hadn't been the one to invite herself over, after all. What did Rachel thing this was, a schedule playdate?

"You got any music that ain't from some goofy Broadway thing?" she asked finally, picking out a single grape to eat. "Something people can actually dance to?"

Santana watched Rachel eat out the corner of her eye, her eyes flickering occasionally from Rachel's serving to the bowl to Rachel's bowl again. After a few minutes, and after she had memorized every piece of fruit in Rachel's bowl, including what she had already consumed, she slowly got out a bowl for herself and deliberately scooped out approximately half as much as Rachel had gotten. When she stood against the counter again though she didn't start eating right away, still sure that Rachel was watching.

When Rachel asked her what to do, her eyebrows rose. She hadn't been the one to invite herself over, after all. What did Rachel thing this was, a schedule play-date?

"You got any music that ain't from some goofy Broadway thing?" she asked finally, picking out a single grape to eat. "Something people can actually dance to?"

Rachel had glanced at Santana when she had served herself food, but was making a point, or trying, not to actually look at her too much. At the girl's question, she huffed. "Of course I do. While I adore the emotional and powerful works that erupt from the Broadway stage, I pride myself on being a versatile performer, and therefore having an extensive collection of music varied in taste and genre," she rambled before she could even think of stopping herself.

Still, it was ridiculous for Santana to think she was that one dimensional. Of course she listened to various Broadway tunes _a lot_, but she had other favorites…

"Though… Why are we dancing?" she asked curiously, brows furrowing in confusion.

And actually, _how _were they dancing? Because if it was anything like the dancing that had happened at the part then… Yeah. No. That was a terrible idea. Then again, there was no way Santana would dance with _her _that way, so why even be worried about it?

"You could have made that way simpler and just said "yes," " Santana pointed out, lips quirking as she slowly picked up another grape, rolling it back and forth between a few fingers as she regarded Rachel. "And as for why are we dancing…the question is, is there ever a time when dancing is a sucky option?"

She shoved her bowl to the side and moved away from the counter, raising her eyebrows at Rachel again as she held out a hand, acting now as much in hopes of continuing to shock Rachel as because she actually wanted to do this. "What, you scared? I mean I know there's no way in hell you could ever keep up with me but maybe if I took it really, really slow you would at least not trip over your own feet."

Skills officially called into question, Rachel's competitive side flared up, and without she strode to the media center in the living room, and turned the surround sound system on. She pressed play, and almost immediately the house was filled with the bumping bass of Rihanna's "Don't Stop the Music". She had been, though she wasn't about to say it, been dancing to it the other night, going through some the choreography her and Brittany were working on for the upcoming competition for Glee.

But this time there wasn't predetermined steps to follow. It didn't stop her, though. And as the first beat increased she raised a challenging brow to Santana, game face on, and twisted her hips.

She may not having any experience with parties, but she knew she could dance. Not like Brittany, and maybe not even like Santana, but she could follow a beat, and she had years and years of practice in different, formal dance styles.

Smirking a little, she sauntered up to Santana, pressing into her close, courage and confidence coursing through her veins as she leaned up to sing the lyrics into Santana's ear, "_Do you know what'ya started? I just came here to party. And now we're on rocking on the dance floor actin' naughty._" She slid her hands down Santana's side, lowering herself, keeping eye contact, then coming back up in one smooth motion, hips (mostly) unintentionally grinding up against Santana's leg. "_Your hands around my waist, just let the music play. We're hand in hand, chest to chest, and now we're face to face."_

Oh, this shit was ON.

Santana had seen Rachel dance in Glee, of course, to pre-determined dance steps, and she had never thought much of it. Rachel didn't have the natural rhythm and creativity that Brittany had, but she had always picked up skills easily enough. Beyond that, Santana had never noticed, but she couldn't see Rachel being one to dance with any sort of ease to the kind of music Santana herself preferred, using her body every bit as expressively as her voice.

But the girl was surprising her tonight in more ways than one, and as Rachel set out to prove herself, drawing close to Santana and singing in her ear, even…fuck, was Rachel Berry GRINDING against her?

Santana fought back an instinctive shivery thrill that shot through her core, gritting her teeth as she tried to keep herself from showing any surprise or worse yet, enjoyment. There was no way she had just enjoyed Rachel Berry rubbing up against her. And there was no way in HELL she was going to let Rachel see that she had surprised her in any way. She would show her what she was made of, where HER kingdom was, right here, right now.

Seizing hold of Rachel's hips, she pulled them firmly against her own so they stood pelvis to pelvis, and with her hands still holding Rachel's hips, she began to move with the music, moving Rachel with her too and leaning in close, sliding a hand slowly up Rachel's side and back to entwine with her hair, forcing Rachel's head closer to her so she could sing back into her ear the chorus.

"I wanna take you away

Let's escape into the music, DJ let it play  
I just can't refuse it  
Like the way you do this  
Keep on rockin' to it  
Please don't stop the, please don't stop the music"

Her voice is low and throaty, almost a growl, and she lets her breath warm Rachel's ear before releasing her hips, slipping around to lightly embrace her from behind as she pulls Rachel's backside against her front. She's already flushed, her heart beating faster as she continues to sing and move, making Rachel move with her to the beat.

She had died and gone to heaven. That was the only explanation for what was happening. She was dead, and this was her heaven.

It was a _fantastic _heaven. Oh God.

Gasping as Santana grabbed her hips and pulled her in, Rachel very nearly melted as Santana husked the chorus into her ear, body moving on it's own with Santana's help to follow the beat and- Oh God. Santana turned her, was grinding to the rhythm of the music against her- her ass, and-

Tilting her head back against the taller girl's shoulder, she managed to hit her "cue", singing, "_Baby are you ready cause it's gettin' close. Don'tcha feel the passion ready to explode?" _She ground back against Santana, setting her hands on the Latina's and moving her hips in perfect time to the music. "_What goes on between us no one has ta know. This is a private show, ooohh._" The last part came out much more sultry than she meant it to, but she mentally copped it up to wanting to meet Santana hit for hit.

One of her hands reached up, going back to tangle in Santana's hair, the other trailing down her own stomach and then flattening itself against the Cheerio's strong, toned thigh. She may be letting Santana lead, but she refused to be a completely passive participant.

If her face was flushed down to her neck and her heart was practically beating out of her chest and she was positive that were Santana not holding her up her knees may very well give out.

Santana has danced with a lot of people, male and female, and she almost always enjoys it unless she's too drunk to realize what's she's doing, and even then it's always fun to feel a warm body up against hers. But this, from Rachel, is somehow that much more enjoyable because it's such a surprise. She never really thought of Rachel as being capable of…well…who the hell knew a girl who wore poodle sweaters could move her body like THIS?

She is not breathing hard, not yet, but her heart is definitely beating much faster than it should be, her skin sparking every place that she is being touched, and the weird thing is she doesn't want to let go. Right now, this moment, dancing with Rachel Berry, is the only place she knows existing and the only place she wants to be. Even Brittany doesn't come to mind as she sings back the next lines to Rachel, her scalp tingling where Rachel's fingers lightly pull at her hair.

Do you know what you started?  
I just came here to party  
But now we're rocking on the dance floor, actin' naughty  
Your hands around my waist  
Just let the music play  
We're hand in hand, chest to chest and now we're face to face

As she sings about her hands on Rachel's waist, she slides them across Rachel's waist and deliberately grazes the sides of her breasts, then drops down low, sliding her chest and pelvis up Rachel's side with maximum contact as she continues to sing. Abruptly thrusting Rachel out from her in a half twirl, she winds her in close again and seizing both hands, enacts a complicated manuever which ends with Rachel's arms bound behind her back, securely held by Santana's, bent at the waist with Santana's face inches away.

Rachel whimpers as she feels Santana slide against her, gasping and having to bite back a moan as the Cheerio takes complete control of the dance, moving Rachel's body almost a puppet (a _very _willing puppet), and then her hands are pinned behind her back, back arched, and instinctively a leg goes up to hook on Santana's hip to steady herself.

Heat shoots straight through her as the Latina's face stops mere inches from her own. They're so close she can feel the girl's breath on her lips, and is positive that her own eyes have gotten darker.

The blood is pumping so hard through her body that she hears it in her ears, swallowing thickly she knows that she's missed her cue, and that Santana's never going to let her live this down, but it's really hard to care when her… _not-crush _is holding her like this, and looking at her straight in the eye, and, okay, fine, yes, Santana definitely wins the "Who can dance sexier" game.

At least this time.

As the music fades out, Rachel manages to release herself from the girl's hold, stepping back and looking away from Santana as she tries to regulate her breathing. Disturbia is already starting to poor through the speakers.

She looks to Santana, and the smirk, coupled with the absolutely predatory look in the girl's eyes actually makes her take a step back.

Didn't someone once tell her that the Latina could smell fear?

Not that she was afraid. She was just… Just. _Things_.

Santana could actually hear Rachel's heart beating, saw the girl's eyes widen, pupils dilating only inches from her own. Her chest was heaving beneath Santana's, and Santana noted that the girl had a rather good one herself, without the benefit of surgery too. Her chest tight, she maintained her ground, looking her in the eye, unblinking, controlling her breathing, even as she begin to slowly straighten them both, turning Rachel with every intention of pinning her against the wall.

For a few seconds there…she actually thought about pressing her lips to Rachel's, maybe even briefly slipping her tongue inside. Not because she really wanted to…exactly. Just to move one step up in the game, to prove once and for all what they both already knew, that Santana had won.

But Rachel broke away, looking breathless, almost frightened, and the sense of triumph Santana felt was almost matched by a feeling of confusion as well. Because although she still wished Rachel hadn't backed away, only part of it was for the sake of the game.

She had liked her being that close, that within her control. She had liked the feeling of Rachel near her, moving with her, willing, warm, and surprisingly toned, and not just for the sake of the challenge.

Oh fuck…it was one thing to sort of like Rachel. But to actually be ATTRACTED to her?


	8. Chapter 8

"What, no congrats?" Santana tried to cover the suddenly anxious thoughts with a laugh, holding out one hand towards her as though to shake. "I kicked your white girl dancer ass there, Berry. I had you shaking from head to toe."

Rachel shook herself off, crossing her arms and huffing, a pout clear on her lips. She wasn't exactly a good loser.

"You did no such thing," she insisted, though her body said all sorts of things that definitely equaled the opposite. Her skin tingled- no, was on _fire _from the Latina's touch, and the flush on her face and neck refused to lessen even a little bit.

The look that had been in Santana's eyes was seared into her mind. It had just been so… so _controlling_. Rachel wasn't used to that. Not in the way that Santana had displayed it, at least. It was… dare she even think it,_sexy_. It had actually been incredibly sexy to have Santana having her way with Rachel's body.

For dancing, of course. Not like- Not in the other way. Because there wasn't another way. And-

Clearing her throat, clearly flustered, Rachel ran a shaky hand through her hair. "I'd call it a draw, if anything," she stated stubborn, voice only cracking slightly.

The girl had to be kidding. A DRAW? After Santana practically plucked her strings like a guitar?

Santana laughed aloud, eyebrows raised, and she deliberately came closer to her, letting her hips sway as she almost invaded her space.

"I'd call it a massacre. Berry, you were like one of those dolls on strings, only with way better muscle tone and flexibility…all I had to do was barelllllly lay a finger on you and you'd probably vibrate, even now."

Just to test the theory she stroked her fingertips suddenly over Rachel's collarbone and up her next, a smile playing at her lips that was partly a smirk as well.

She wanted to jump away the second the Latina's fingers touched her, mostly because she knew that her body would react almost exactly how Santana expected it to. But she managed to stand her ground, sucking in a sharp breath and body tensing in an attempt to _not _shiver.

Oh God. This wasn't fair. Not even a little bit.

Rachel didn't know how to handle this sort of thing. Acting was one thing. Scripted scenes, sure. But this was… This was _completely _out of her field of knowledge.

But she was stubborn, dammit.

"I'm fine," she forced out, breathing slowly in an attempt to sound a lot more fine than she really was. Her body, though was once again giving her away terribly. The blush had moved to her chest, and she was, indeed, nearly vibrating out of her skin at the proximity alone.

She actually nearly ached to be closer to the Cheerio, and as Santana's fingers brushed up lightly against the spot just under her ear, she whimpered before she could stop herself.

How the hell had it taken Santana THIS LONG to figure out that Rachel was into girls? More specifically, into her?

This was beyond blatant…maybe they hadn't exactly been very touchy feely before, beyond what was absolutely required for Glee rehearsals, but where the hell had Santana's eyes been that she hadn't noticed Rachel doing this before around her?

Rachel was actually going a vivid red not just in the face but through her chest and probably lower as well, and Santana's eyes traced downward deliberately, letting Rachel see that she was envisioning this. She could practically see her heart beating out of her skin, and on an impulse that surprised even her, Santana flattened her hand over Rachel's chest, feeling her heart pulsing wildly against her fingers.

She was the one making this happen. She felt very powerful, very superior over Rachel, in a way that she only felt when controlling others. Rachel reacting this way meant she was worth something to someone, that she was in fact attractive and in control.

Rachel's whimper was the icing on the cake. She could only top this by making her physically collapse, and almost as soon as she thought this, this became Santana's unconscious goal. Leaning forward, her hand still slipped partly beneath Rachel's jaw, moving to cup her cheek, she leaned forward and lightly nuzzled her nose against her ear.

"How long have you wanted this?" she whispered in her ear, just before covering Rachel's lips with hers.

Somewhere, Rachel knew that this was just a show of power. That Santana wasn't actually attracted to her, and that she was doing this all on purpose just to prove to Rachel that she could. But… It was so, _so hot_. The flaunting was hot. The power dynamic was hot. _Santana _was hot.

And as the girl got even closer, pressing her hand against her chest, nuzzling and husking into her ear, Rachel's last shreds of self control just… couldn't take it.

She'd hate herself later, probably, but for now, God, if Santana just making fun of her for her attraction to her was how she was going to get even an inkling of this sort of attention from the girl, then maybe that would just have to be enough, wouldn't it?

So when Santana kissed her, Rachel let her, letting the girl control the kiss just as she was, for all intents and purposes, controlling her body. And she kissed back, too.

Rachel _knew _she was a good kisser. She knew that. And she was determined to prove that no, she wasn't completely and utterly inexperience here. At least, when it came to her mouth, she had a pretty good idea of what she was doing.

Because, whether she liked it or not, she _had_ wanted this for… for an awfully long time…

Holy…

When words actually failed to form in her mind, that was generally a good indication that she was experiencing one hell of a kiss. But considering how many people's tongues had been stuck down Santana's throat, and how few of them were remotely memorable to her…who would ever think that Rachel Berry would make the top of the list, be one of maybe two total to actually leave her floundering mentally for what to do next?

Santana hadn't planned on a second kiss, or even a very prolonged first. She figured one briefly peck, maybe a little lip nibbling or tongue action, would be enough to get her point across. But Rachel was kissing back, giving as good as she got, and her lips were warm and soft and smooth, and her tongue oh god this was unreal this was not happening oh god…

Her hand slid over Rachel's chest and then began to fumble beneath, sliding over the smooth skin of Rachel's stomach and up towards her breasts as she continued to kiss her with increasing pressure. Unconsciously Santana moaned into her mouth, eyes closed, her skin heating up from head to toe as she slid her fingertips over the material of Rachel's bra. By this point she had forgotten that this was Rachel Berry, the girl she had tormented, Rachel Berry, the school's biggest nerd, or even Rachel Berry, the girl who knew Santana's darkest secrets. She was kissing Rachel the extremely hot girl, Rachel the amazing kisser, and that was all she could care about in the moment.

Rachel's mind was so completely clouded by lust and arousal that it took Santana's hand actually _touching _her breast for her to snap back into reality. Jolting, eyes going wide, she stumbled back from Santana's body, hitting the wall behind her, knees weak and breathing unsettled.

Her body was absolutely thrumming, and her breast, the one that had Santana's hand on it was actually, God it was _tingle_. It had been over the bra but Rachel was positive it'd be awhile before she could forget that.

"S-sorry," she squeaked, looking somewhat like a hot mess, though all they had done was _kiss_. And, okay. Maybe Santana had copped a feel. But _still_.

It wasn't like they had even been making out at all.

It was a kiss.

Just _a kiss_.

It just… It just felt like so much _more_. "I- I um—" She swallowed thickly, looking down at the floor, wishing her face wouldn't feel so damn hot, and that it hadn't been so incredibly obvious just how much she had been enjoying herself. Because- Because this was _Santana Lopez_. She didn't have an actual chance in hell with the girl. She knew that. And yet she had already led herself fall into the girl so hard and fast.

God. What was she _thinking_?

The problem was that she wasn't thinking. Not clearly, at least.

Santana had that affect on her, it seemed.

It wasn't until Rachel abruptly pulled back from her, ending the kiss and the physical contact at once, that Santana truly realizes what she's doing…or more precisely, who it was exactly she was doing it to. As Rachel flattens herself against the wall, panting, wide-eyed, Santana too stumbles back, breathing hard, feeling her chest heave as she swallows, her hand instinctively moving to cover her chest in exactly the spot she had touched Rachel.

She had just made out with Rachel. Rachel BERRY. She had just made out with her, not just one kiss, not just to get under Rachel's skin, but because…because it felt good. Because it was fucking amazing, actually. Because she enjoyed it…because she wanted to.

The only thing keeping her grabbing Rachel and kissing her again was the stunned look in her eyes and the voice screaming in her head that she had just lost her everloving mind. This was RACHEL BERRY, what the fuck was she doing, how could she even think of wanting to do _anything_ with her?

Rachel was stammering an apology as if she had somehow provoked this, and maybe she had. Being so nice and inviting her over, letting her dance like that, singing in her ear all sexy and…giving her fruit…wasn't fruit an aphrodisiac?

It took several tries before Santana found words, and she barely recognized her own voice.

"That…uh, you…"

Then, in a rush, "You sure as hell didn't learn that from Finn or Puck."

Rachel could only nod, her eyes still wide, and now it became a fight to look anywhere _but _at the girl only a few feet in front of her. But every time she tried looking down, or to the side, she'd catch sight of Santana's slightly swollen lips, or the girl's ample chest, or back down to those perfect thighs-

"S-singing," she managed to choke out as a response. "T-tongue and breath control, I mean. For singing." She had found out that such techniques could be used for kissing mostly by accident when she made out with Noah. And after that it had just been a matter of actively using them for such purposes.

Her body was still throbbing, chest burning and skin tingling.

Except, well, now what?

Honestly Rachel was waiting for… well, some kind of blow out. For Santana to insult her, or be smug, or just, something to put this all back into perspective. Because currently her own mind was doing a really terrible job of that, considering that all she could think about was the couch not too far away, Santana on top of her, and more kissing.

It was… it was really just not helping to calm her down. At all.

"You- You're really incredible," she blurted out before she could stop herself, and immediately looked down.

Yup. Definitely couldn't control herself around this girl. That much was painfully obvious.

Although Santana had shifted her eyes away from Rachel when she blurted out her comment, they fly back to her again at Rachel's own clearly unplanned words. Incredible…generally being called "incredible" at kissing would be taken as an obvious given by Santana, and she wasn't really surprised to hear it now. Hadn't that been the point, maybe, to show Rachel that she was? But why did her cheeks flush slightly then, and her heart beat faster still?

"Had a lot of practice," she said deliberately, trying to put up a wall between, to show to Rachel that this was no big deal, a game to her. And it was, wasn't it? It was, it damn well better be, because otherwise…otherwise…

"Shit, Rachel, if all those guys who slushee you knew you could do THAT, you wouldn't be a virgin for another twenty seconds, there'd be a rushing, raging, libido induced horde at your door."

Rachel stayed where she was against the wall, but had relaxed a little bit when it became apparent that Santana wasn't going to freak out.

At least not right now.

She was about to correct Santana, and tell her that she hadn't meant just the kiss, but the girl kept speaking, and Rachel frowned, crossing her arms over her chest loosely and looking away from the girl. "I'd rather be a virgin until I'm thirty than let any of those neanderthals lay one hand me…" she replied a little sharply. Grimacing at the mere thought. "Laugh all you want, but I'd like my first to time to mean something," she went on. "At least enough that the person I'm with, male or female, actually cares enough about me to take their time and make it enjoyable."

And preferably with actual feelings involved. She didn't want her virginity to be someone's notch on their bedpost.

Normally, laughing would be exactly what Santana would do. It was weird to be a virgin at sixteen, after all. Santana was sixteen and she had had sex two years ago and who knows how many times since. Granted, the majority of those times had been in less than sober conditions, but they all counted, even if she couldn't add them up.

But something about what Rachel had said struck her. About her first time being enjoyable, with someone who cared and took their time. What kind of fairy tale was Rachel living in anyway?

"You know that pretty much is impossible, right?" she said from the counter, running a finger absently over its surface as she turned her head to look back at her. "There's no Prince or Princess Charming twiddling his thumbs waiting for you instead of following his dick or libido. No such thing, Berry. Your first time will suck, that's just how it is. It will hurt and it will be over in two minutes. I've never heard of anyone who had some romance movie first time, so don't hold your breath on that."

And then as she looked back at her, it began to dawn on Santana that what Rachel was saying no doubt applied to the kiss…thing…too. If she was all uptight over sex, that was hardly different from kissing and she surely was standing back there regretting that too.

Santana wasn't sure why this bothered her. It's not like she had meant anything by it, she hadn't even planned to go near as far as they had. Still, thinking that Rachel might be standing there hating what happened made her stomach clinch, and she backed up from the counter abruptly.

"It's stupid to think you can do any better than that when none of the rest of us could," she said, her voice harsher now.

Rachel listened as Santana spoke, her frown deepening with each word, and by the end of it she winced at the harshness of the Latina's tone. She had expected it, sure, but it still stung more than she ever cared to admit.

She felt the words bubbling up from her chest, bit her tongue to try and stop them, but the moment she looked up at Santana, they fell from her lips without pause. "Would you?" she asked, voice subdued and unsure. Swallowing her nerves, she went on, figuring she had nothing left to lose anymore. "I- I don't mean me specifically. But I just- If a girl came to you, asking you to take their virginity, would you make it hurt and finish them in two minutes?"

It was suicide to ask. She knew that. It was overstepping basically every line that they had drawn out at this point.

But then again, they had already kissed. Santana had already gotten further with her than any guy ever had if she counted the brief touching of her breast (and Rachel definitely counted that because she could swear she could still feel it, even now). "Because—" she bit her lip, "Because you didn't kiss me like you would…"

If anything, Santana had kissed her like she was drinking Rachel in. Had touched her, even briefly, like she wanted to explore, and just _feel _Rachel.

And maybe she was over-analyzing. Maybe it was all just wishful thinking. But at this point she didn't have any secrets with the girl; Santana knew that Rachel liked her on some level, and knew that Rachel wasn't completely straight.

There wasn't really a point in hiding much of anything else, honestly.

She was going to get hurt either way, so she might as well be honest about it.

Every time Santana had seen Rachel get that look in her eyes in Glee Club, or in the hallway, usually shortly after being kicked into a locker or Slusheed in the face, she had never really thought about it twice, had sometimes even taken pleasure in it, or else felt mild irritation. That lost, hurt look, like she was a young kid, or a kicked puppy, mixed with something like longing, even hope…like she still expected that maybe one day things would be different. Why did a look like that, one Santana was never really affected by before, make her feel so strange now?

Guilty…and sort of sad, a dull ache squeezing around her chest. When exactly had this changed?

Her first impulse was to tell Rachel no, but she hesitated, because honestly, she couldn't tell her why this would be her answer. Quickly trying to think through her response, she knew logically that her answer should be yes, of course. That was what sex was- except for with Brittany- no, she wasn't going there, she was NOT going down that road, not now, not ever, and especially not with Rachel Berry standing there with those soft, slightly swollen lips and hopeful puppy eyes.

That was what sex was. Hard, fast, and only pleasurable in brief spurts, forgotten as soon as it was over. Sometimes Santana wondered if this was really why she tried so often, over and over again, because she was determined, maybe, that one of those times, it would be what everyone made it look like in the movies, that she would feel the same measure of pleasure that everyone she had sex with seemed to, and not fake the majority of her response.

Slower. Gentler. Taking time, feeling over every inch, drawing it out until she could stand it no longer. Building it up to the max and then afterward….

Like it was with Brit- NO NO NO NO!

She knew that her face was showing something then, knew even as she spoke that she was responding almost as much as a result of her flashbacks to her time in bed with Brittany as to Rachel's question itself. But though she had not planned on the response and felt even as she said it that she should take it back, it was sincere, and she realized as she spoke that she did mean it for Rachel too.

"No. I wouldn't…but hell if I know why."

Rachel nodded slowly, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Then I think there's hope for me yet," she answered softly, lifting her shoulder a little.

Taking a deep breath, she finally removed herself from the wall, making her way back to the counter. She needed to distract herself, and putting away the fruit salad was at least a start to that.

As covered the bowl with plastic wrap, put it in the fridge, and took her empty bowl to set in the sink, all the while distinctly aware of Santana's eyes following her movements. Her heart hadn't really calmed down at all. It didn't feel like it would explode from her chest at any moment, but it was still thundering in her ears, and she just couldn't get the kiss off her mind.

It had honestly been the best kiss she had ever had. Finn hadn't been terrible, really. Just a little uncontrolled. And Puck had been good, a little too… rough in an overwhelming sort of way. It had just been different with Santana.

The girl's lips had been softer, the pressure more controlled, and just…

Better. Everything about it had been better.

Except, she really needed to stop, because it definitely wasn't going to happen again, she was sure.

Hope for her yet? What did THAT mean? Was Rachel saying…surely she didn't mean…had she basically just told Santana that she was waiting for HER to be her first time?!

Santana is having to struggle not to let her brain just explode from the conflicting, confusing thoughts racing through it, and she is aware of her heart beginning to beat too fast all over again in her chest. Clearing her throat, trying to shove away the visions of her and Rachel, in partial states of dress, lying overlapping in a bed together, she hurriedly looks down, noticing that Rachel is turned away busying herself with cleaning too.

This was just way too weird, way too much.

"I gotta go," she muttered to Rachel, quickly grabbing up her purse and heading for the door. "Later."

But as she passes her she pauses, one hand shooting out before she can think twice about it and giving Rachel's arm a light, awkward squeeze before she snatches it back, heading for the door without looking back again.


	9. Chapter 9

With her fathers back and the house once again full of life in the evenings, Rachel wasn't as unwilling to get home as she was when she was home alone.

Still, as Glee finished up and she made her way to her locker, humming under her breath, she couldn't help but think back to last night, when Santana had come over, and they… they _kissed_. They had danced as well. But it was less dancing and more like… well, Rachel would describe it as making out without lips. If that made any sense.

She hadn't been able to sleep very well, either. Largely because she kept being woken up by… certain dreams. Dreams that she hadn't really experienced that vividly in _ever_.

It was all sorts of nerve-wracking, and what made the day harder was that Santana had been watching her whenever they were in the same vicinity.

Not in an obvious way, of course.

But Rachel Berry was used to people staring at her, for one reason or another, so when it happened, she knew it. And she knew Santana was burning holes into her back.

She had fully expected to be cornered some time during the day, but in hindsight she wasn't too surprised, really. Either Santana didn't want to risk saying anything in public, or she was simply going to ignore everything that had happened between them. Possibly even order some kind of slushie assault on her?

Though hadn't Santana mentioned stopping the slushies?

She couldn't recall, to be honest.

The number had dropped back down to one a day, at least. So that was a relief.

Rachel sighed, shaking herself out of her thoughts and continuing to grab her books. She had been in her head far too often since the whole thing with Santana started. It probably wasn't healthy.

88

Rachel Berry was driving Santana insane.

Not in the usual way, where Santana was annoyed just by her existing, flitting around talking in her overly loud and excited voice and going overboard sucking up to teachers and announcing all her grand ideas of everything she was just sure everyone else should follow along with. No, what was getting to her now was not anything in particular Rachel was doing, but rather what had already been done.

Every time she caught sight of Rachel, she remembered what it was like to press her body against her, to let her fingers glide over the softness of Rachel's skin. Every time she heard Rachel's voice she remembered her lips against her ear as she sang to Santana, grinding into her. And even when Rachel wasn't there at all, she remembered and frequently flashed back to the weight of her breast in her hand, the taste of her lips against her own.

If someone had told her 24 hours ago she would be unable to stop sexually thinking of Rachel Berry, she would have probably first punched them out, then laughed in their bleeding face. But…that was exactly what was happening.

Santana thought at first she was just so sexually frustrated she really needed to get some, to the extent that anyone would do. But private time in the shower had lead to more thoughts of Rachel, and when she started to try to get somewhere with one of the most eager of the football players in the locker room closet during lunch, she became so frustrated by his clumsy hands that she pushed him off her and told him not to bother. Clearly, that wasn't it.

Then if it really was Rachel…she must have lost her mind.

The only thing to do was just pretend it never happened. Surely then everything she was thinking and feeling would go away. It would have to.

But as the day wore on, Santana continued to think of Rachel. Not just of her body or their touching, their kisses, but…just of Rachel. Of how nice the girl had been to her when she didn't have to be at all, how she hadn't pushed her or made her feel stupid. Of how strangely sweet it was, how much the girl wanted and how little she seemed to know about how things worked, at least in Santana's world. Of how she actually seemed to like Santana beyond her weird little crush…how she seemed to have hope for her that no one else had.

None of that should matter, because it was just Rachel…but somehow, that was exactly why it did matter.

Last night had been the first night in weeks that Santana hadn't cried herself to sleep, the only day she could remember in quite some time where she hadn't vomited at least once. And it was, she was certain, because of this thing with Rachel.

It hadn't meant anything, but somehow it had brought something about all the same. And maybe she wasn't ready to let it go yet. Maybe she shouldnt'.

By the time she finally made up her mind, she wasted no time in finding Rachel after school and marching her with little warning or explanation down the hallway, pulling her into the very same closet she had earlier attempted to use for copulation that day. In the confined space with her, she gripped one shoulder, talking fast and fierce, not letting Rachel interrupt.

"All right, so yesterday was pretty hot, I admit it, and you're not as bad as you were or maybe you're just wearing me down because I can actually tolerate you most of the time, and actually, you've been sort of cool to me. So maybe we can try this shit again and see what happens and just leave it at that. But if we do that…there is no way, NO WAY you can tell ANYONE or I will shred your vocal cords like a particularly cranky Siamese. Okay?"

Squeaking in surprise and being dragged somewhere by Santana Lopez was starting to become an incredibly frequent scenario, thought Rachel as it played out once again.

One moment she had been at her locker, the next moment she was in a dark janitors closet with a small, dim light bulb above her head and Santana was talking, quickly, and fierce enough to make Rachel snap her mouth shut and lean back a little, arms crossed over her chest and eyes wide with surprise.

It a took a moment for the girl's words to really register, but when they did, Rachel was confused.

Again.

Because that was another thing that had been happening a lot (see: all the time) around the Cheerio. "Um… Try… what again…?" she asked warily.

Santana couldn't mean… No. There was no way. There was absolutely no way that Santana was suggesting…

What _was _she suggesting?

Why did she have to spell everything out to this girl? Wasn't she supposed to be Rachel Berry the know it all?

"I thought you were some kind of genius, you really need me to draw you a map?" Santana rolled her eyes, leaning back against the side of the closet away from her slightly, giving Rachel a little more space than she had before. Still, they are close enough that their legs keep touching, and since Santana is in her cheerleading skirt, her legs bare, the sensation sends a jolt up her thigh and still higher.

"IT, Rachel. Dancing, tongue-fighting, boob-groping, whatever strikes our fantasy. And something tells me you got plenty of those."

Rachel's mouth went dry, eyes widening in understanding as her cheeks began to heat up. "Ex-excuse me?" she managed, then blushed deeper, realizing how stupid she sounded right now.

Her brain felt it had short circuited, and she was pretty sure she was doing a fantastic impression of a fish swallowing water, but she couldn't help it. Was Santana… Was she… _propositioning her_?

"You want to-" She shook her head, trying to clear the haze that had settled over her the moment the word "fantasy" had left the Latina's lips. Straightening up, trying to regain some of her composure, Rachel took a calming breath, hands at her sides as she gathered herself. When she felt like maybe she could make words without sounding like a total idiot, she spoke again.

"You want a repeat of yesterday. You- you _want_ to kiss me? Again?"

She knew she shouldn't push, but she was Rachel Berry, and for all the things that she wasn't going to push Santana with (at least not until she knew how to navigate the landmines), this was definitely something she needed more explanation on. "At the risk of having you get angry and take back your… um… offer, I'm going to ask why."

This girl really was slow on the uptake, wasn't she? The way she kept just staring at Santana, blinking and opening and closing her mouth like one of those creepy puppet dolls…she actually looked afraid. Intimidated was one thing, but was she still actually scared of her? What, did she think she was screwing with her, going to shove her half dressed out of the closet and throw things at her or something?

Santana knew she couldn't blame her if that was the case, given her history, but even so she was slightly hurt by the thought that Rachel still might think that. She hadn't done anything really mean to her in forever. Well…like, a few days, anyway. Maybe a week. But in high school that was practically a life time.

And yet here Rachel was, standing there staring at her like she was the crazy one. Maybe like she didn't want to kiss her. Maybe she didn't. Maybe she had decided it was too weird or too wrong or in hindsight she didn't like it, maybe she had decided Santana really wasn't as good as she remembered, or maybe she had felt the fat on her hip or leg or something and had second thoughts. Maybe her breath had smelled and Rachel never said. Maybe she just wasn't pretty enough to compensate for not being guy…this from the girl who had a thing for FINN.

A stir of both hurt and surprising jealousy twisted in her chest as Santana pulled back as far from her as she could manage in the small space, reaching for the closet door as she snapped back at her.

"Because I thought maybe you'd want to, Berry, why the hell else? But obviously you don't, obviously you'd rather mack off of Frankenteen Hudson or Skunkhead Puckerman, fine then, enjoy having eel tongues finish you off in two minutes. Did I say two minutes, with them and you it's probably more like twenty seconds.

"Santana wait!" exclaimed the smaller girl, reaching to grab the Latina's wrist, stepping up to her, mouth moving quickly as she tried to explain herself. "Of course I want to- I mean, hasn't that been terribly obvious that I'm attracted to you? It's just, you aren't allowed to be upset at me for being confused. That's not fair. 24 hours ago you never would have been offering this. Not in a million years. And you'll forgive me if I'm a little nervous, or even suspicious. But it has nothing to do with not wanting to- to kiss you."

By the time she was done she was flushed, though her breathing was fine. Years of singing and practice once again had come in handy.

When she was sure that Santana wasn't going to run out on her, she stepped back, allowing the girl some space to move again, and spoke again, this time a little slower. "You _know _that I'm attracted to you, Santana. And I'm pretty sure I called you incredible last night, after the kiss." She let a shaky breath at the memory, eyes flitting to Santana's lips for a second. "This has nothing to do with me wanting to you kiss you. It's entirely a matter of why you would possibly want to be with _me _like that."

Because Rachel was the freak with the big nose and bigger mouth. The girl who couldn't dress, and had unrealistic dreams ranging from her first time having sex to being a star in New York. She was a social pariah, and even though she knew that she'd get out— that she would most definitely be a star some day, for now, she was still in high school, and still "Manhands" Berry.

Why on earth would Santana want _her_?

Santana started to jerk away from her, instinctively pulling her hand back in preparation to hit as Rachel grabbed her, but as she caught herself, realizing what she is about to do, she stops, taking in a breath and releasing it as Rachel starts babbling full speed. She doesn't catch everything she says at first, but she gets the gist of it. But if Rachel is really attracted to her and wants to kiss her…well then what is the problem? Isn't this what she wants, then?

It had never occurred to her that Rachel might also have reservations. She had assumed that of course the girl would jump at the offer, that Santana was the only one who might have something to lose, and it stung what pride she did have in herself to think that maybe this wasn't the case after all.

But as Rachel continues to explain, reassuring her that she's attracted to her, that this has nothing to do with whether or not she wants her, Santana shifts her weight to one foot, her hand loosening on the doorknob as Rachel asks her, with the sincerity that only Rachel Berry could manage, why she would want to be with her. Like "that," as she put it.

As Santana considered the question, for the thousandth time since it had come to her own thoughts, she looked at the door rather than at Rachel, as though seeking answers there rather than from within herself. But when she speaks she turns her head to look at Rachel, taking time to be honest.

"I don't know. Because…because it was a good kiss. Because it was hot, and fun, and…and nice," she admitted, her voice dropping, cheeks coloring with embarrassment as she pushed through with some difficulty. "Because you look good, when you're fixed right, and you've got the raw material to be a complete knock out. And you're not as annoying as you used to be lately, and you haven't been pushing me about things and sticking your nose in my business as much as you could be, and it's…it's sort of…I sort of like being around you, and…I don't know, Rachel, because, okay? Just…because."

Encouraged by the look in Santana's eyes and the honesty she heard in her voice, Rachel stepped forward, right up to Santana, her hands moving to play with the edges of the girl's Cheerios top. She couldn't quite look up at Santana, though. And kept her eyes on her hands. "O-okay. I can accept," she replied, voice a little quiet. "But then, if we do this, I need you to respect my boundaries, Santana."

She finally looked up at the girl, voice quiet, but firm. "You think it's stupid, but there's a lot I'm not ready for. 'Second base' being part of that. So… I mean…" She cleared her throat. "Above the belt and below the chest," she finally managed to say. "I mean, for touching."

Did she want to feel Santana's hands on her again? Yes. But was she… was she ready for it? Her body was, but Rachel knew that mentally, and emotionally, that wasn't the case.

"Just. Try to be patient with me, about those things. Please?" Rachel felt utterly ridiculous, asking like this. So very much exposed and vulnerable. But she needed to say it now, so that if Santana wanted to back out, she could.

As Rachel's hands brush Santana's stomach, Santana goes very still, a ticklish but far from unpleasant sensation coming over her skin. She looks down at Rachel, listening to her serious tone, and almost scoffs at her request. Above the belt and below the chest are the only safe touch zones?! That basically means her back and stomach, that's leaving out ALL the good parts!

But Rachel is asking with sincerity, that same soft look in her eyes that Santana is getting all too used to seeing, that look that affects her now more than she ever would have thought possible…so after a slow sigh, she nods.

"I'm telling you though, Berry, that's leaving out all the good stuff, you're gonna be sorry for that."

She hesitated, then reached out, slowly putting a hand to Rachel's waist and sliding it around to her lower back, her fingers gently teasing beneath her shirt, following the lowest bumps of her spine. "You sure this is all you want?" she murmured, deliberately dropping her voice.

With a gasp Rachel arched into Santana, eyes fluttering shut as a shiver ran up her spine. Her hold on Santana's shirt tightened, forehead falling to rest against the Cheerio's shoulder.

"I just need time," she managed to breath out against Santana's neck, despite it feeling like the Latina's fingers were leaving a trail of fire along her spine.

Then, gaining some assurance from the other girl's forwardness, Rachel pressed herself flush against her, one hand going up to hold onto Santana's shoulder, the other scratching lightly into the back of her neck, and she began to kiss along Santana's neck tentatively, not completely sure if she'd be okay with it, but willing to take the chance all the same.


	10. Chapter 10

Santana sucked in her breath as Rachel's breath heated her neck, and she shivered despite its warmth, her eyes briefly closing. As Rachel leaned into her, her nails gently scraping the skin of Santana's neck, Santana released a soft moan, involuntary but definitely audible. Her neck and head were among her most sensitive spots, and having her hair played with was definitely one of her weaknesses. If Rachel ever found that out-

And then Rachel's lips were on her neck, working their way up towards her ear, and Santana felt her knees weaken slightly. It was as if the girl had read her mind. She swallowed again, her skin heating all over as she pressed her palm flat against Rachel's spine, pulling her closer against her as she arched her neck to give her greater access. Shifting herself slightly so Rachel's leg was lightly trapped in between hers, Santana closed her eyes, her hand shifting across Rachel's waist and lightly stroking her stomach.

Rachel whimpered audibly as Santana's thighs surrounded her leg, also effectively putting one of Santana's legs between hers. She actually forgot how to breathe for a moment, only managing to get a hold of herself and continue kissing a few seconds after.

Her stomach muscles tensed, and with every touch Rachel was sure her knees would give out on her. But at least Santana seemed to be experiencing similar sensations, right?

The playing field wasn't completely uneven yet.

Still, they were still in a janitors closet, of all places. And it wasn't the most comfortable… Pausing in her actions, swallowing thickly and shivering again, she managed to speak, "We- we should leave." Her voice was thick, and she didn't even recognize it. It was insane how badly the Latina could effect her just by being so close to her. "I- I mean. I don't want to- to do this in a closet. And the sch-school will close soon."

It was true that there was a broom jamming uncomfortably into her back and every time she moved Santana knocked a knee or elbow into a wall, but that had hardly distracted her, given how she was currently occupied. She hadn't exactly been paying attention to minor pains given the major pleasures she had going.

When Rachel pulled back, a slight noise of protest escaped her automatically, and she reached for Rachel's face to pull it back. As Rachel stammered her explanation, Santana reluctantly nodded, giving her a last, lingering kiss before extracting herself with difficulty. She exits first, looking around many, many times before opening the door and hissing for Rachel to leave too. This ritual has to repeat again at the doorway of the locker room, because although maybe she might be slightly okay with walking by Rachel, exiting the locker room was just not going to fly.

She self-consciously fixed her hair and rubbed at her lipstick, wondering if it's badly smeared as she began to walk, aware that her heart is still racing, her cheeks flushed. How could just a little KISSING do this to her, worse than full out sex?

Rachel had to keep herself from swooning at the lingering kiss that Santana gave her just before exiting the closet. Although not feeling nearly as cautious due to the school being pretty much empty, she follows along with Santana's tactics and before long they're at the Latina's car. Rachel hasn't had time to get her license yet, so she's still taking the bus or her dad's drop her off or pick her up when she calls, and sometime Kurt will offer a ride as well.

This time, though, obviously she's going to be riding with Santana.

"Um. My Dad will be home soon. Your house?" she asks. Because, they are going to continue this, right? They only just started, and honestly if Santana leaves her alone now she might just scream.

Well, probably not. But she'll definitely be frustrated.

It had definitely been Santana's plan to take Rachel back to her own house. She had already steered the car towards that direction, but when Rachel speaks up, her hands stiffen on the wheel. She shakes her head quickly, her back tense at the very thought as she shoots this down.

"No, no way. My abuela has ears like a bat and she's ALWAYS around, she'll hear us come in and go up and have ten thousand questions, she won't leave us alone for a second. Do you have any idea how she'd react if she saw us?"

Just the thought is beginning to agitate her to the point that she no longer is even all that eager to start the aborted makeout session up again. Shaking her head again, she repeats herself, "No. Never. You can't ever come home with me."

Rachel frowned, settling back into the seat as her mind worked on over time to figure out how to make this work. She definitely wanted to continue what they had started, preferably on a bed. She was already in too deep to second guess herself now, so with that, she offered up an alternative.

"If you're willing to meet my dad for all of five minutes, we can go to my house. He'll," she took a breath, "He'll be surprised that I have someone over, but he won't question it while you're there, or want to intrude. We can go to my room an close the door. It's soundproofed, and my fathers never interrupt me without knocking." She was nervous, though did her best not to show it. Would Santana go through with it? Did she want to try this enough to have a conversation with one of Rachel's dad's, no matter how brief it would be?

"And before you say it, they don't know you… I mean, they do. Just not… They know you're a cheerleader and that you're in Glee. But that's all," Rachel spoke, shrugging a little. She had never seen a point in telling her fathers all the details of what happened in school. They'd be angry and heart-broken, and as far as she saw it they went through enough for her.

Meet Rachel's dad? Like…like a DATE or something?

This was weird, way too weird. What if they asked her questions? She didn't want to sit around playing nice with Rachel's dad, Rachel's gay dad, no less. What if he had super gaydar and he knew straight away, no pun intended, that Santana was gay? What if he could tell she and Rachel had been making out, or were about to make out, or…whatever it was they were doing, exactly. God, how would Santana be able to stand it?

And yet…she really didn't want to drop Rachel off and go home. She didn't want to have to sneak past her abuela and act like her still shaky hands and reddened face was because of a boy she had been with and hear a lecture about pregnancy and sin knowing all the while that she had just committed a way bigger sin than her abuela thought. She didn't want to lay on her bed and think about boys to call who would only make her hate herself later or to try not to call Brittany and end up crying over every little thing that reminded her of her all over again. She wanted to be with Rachel, yes, MAKING OUT with Rachel, and if that meant sucking it up and being nice to her dad for a few minutes, maybe that was part of the territory.

"Okay," she said with a deep, very unenthused sight. "But I'm not playing like I'm some geeky girl scout."

Something niggled at her about what Rachel had said, and she cut her eyes towards her just as she pulled into her neighborhood. "Wait…they know that I'm a cheerleader in Glee why, exactly? You've told them about me?"

Rachel held back the wide, excited grin that threatened to over come her features, but couldn't help but bounce in her seat a little. At Santana's question, she managed to keep her smile controlled. "My fathers come to all of my performances, including the Glee ones. They've seen you sing, and asked about you. Logically, I answered."

As they pulled up to Rachel's house, she got out, grabbing her backpack roller and making her way towards the house, unlocking the door and waiting for Santana to come up behind her, then walking inside.

"Dad, I'm home!" she called out. From the kitchen tall man with glasses and gray hair, dressed in a casual suit walked out smiling.

"Hello, sweetie! And- A guest!" he exclaimed, focusing on Santana. He offered his hand as Rachel introduced him.

"Dad, this is Santana Lopez. Santana, this is my dad, Hiram Berry."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, . Will you be staying for dinner? We're having stir fry!"

Santana noticed the bounce and smirked to herself, but didn't comment aloud. She was too busy beginning to work herself up into an anxious mass of insecurity over going to Rachel's house and actually having to say something to her father. It was one thing to pull Rachel into a closet and feel all over the Rachel-approved parts of her, or even to go to Rachel's room when no one else was home. But have to make nice with parents? Even Puck's parents hadn't liked her! What was she supposed to say or do or…act like? Why did she even care? She wasn't dating Rachel, she wasn't even friends with her…exactly. Probably.

She didn't say anything as she pulled into the driveway, already trying to come up with an excuse to change her mind. But Rachel was bounding ahead of her, and even Santana would have felt bad about peeling out of the driveway without an explanation. At least, at this point she would.

She walks very slowly to the inside of the house, inwardly cringing when she hears the exchange between Rachel and her father. As she comes into his view, she sees that he is smiling, offering his hand, and Santana makes an effort to smile back and look at least approximately normal, like she doesn't feel like breaking into a sweat or running straight out the door again, as she replies.

"Hi."

And then there's another hurdle for her to deal with. Dinner. Is she supposed to stay for DINNER now? Eat dinner with Rachel and her DAD? Like a real friend or date or…whatever? Is she supposed to eat dinner with them both looking at her, him maybe commenting on her not taking enough or watching to see if she likes it, Rachel trying so hard not to watch that it's almost worse, and stir fry, the stuff was loaded with oils and grease and god knows what…and she hadn't done her usual full work out today, she couldn't eat that shit and just leave it, no way.

"Uh, I'm not sure, I might need to head back before then," she said as nonchalantly as she could, even as her heart continued to pound. "Rach, where's your room?"

Of course, she knew perfectly well where it was, but Hiram didn't know that.

Rachel nearly cringed when her dad mentioned food, and was relieved when Santana managed to cover it just fine. Hiram smiled, nodding. "Makes sense, makes sense. Well, I'll be down here. You're daddy will be late so we'll be having an evening meal, Rachel. Don't have too much fun, kids" With that he walked back into the kitchen chuckling to himself, probably at his own joke.

"We will, dad," Rachel called to him, before hurriedly grabbing Santana's hand and leading her upstairs to her room. Once they were inside she closed the door, leaning against it heavily, sending an apologetic look towards the Latina.

"Sorry about that. If you do end up leaving for dinner I can make an excuse for you," she offered, though her eyes were already trying not to stare too obviously at Santana's lips.

They were officially alone in her room, with no chance of interruption for at least a couple of hours.

Sue her if she was excited.

It was strange to Santana to see Rachel's father actually interacting with her to the extent that he was, to think of him and her other father sitting down to eat with her. Santana's father, as a doctor, was rarely even home by night time, let alone sitting down to eat dinner or talk with them, and when he was around, he barely spoke to any of them and often ended up fighting with Santana's mother. Normally Santana would think to herself that having parents up your butt all the time would be annoying, but she finds herself feeling sort of strange as she moves with Rachel down the hall to her room. Almost ? What was the point of THAT?

It was much better to have parents who left you alone and occasionally threw money your way. She had her abuela nosing into things if she wanted THAT. There was no reason to get weirded out over something dumb like parents having dinner with you.

She doesn't really react to Rachel holding her hand until she is already dropping it to close the door. Then she glances down at it as if expecting it to take on a life of its own before she crosses her arms, saying to her defensively, "I'm not staying for dinner, you can forget that."

Rachel nods. "I figured as much, yes." Then she bites her lip, moving away from the door, brushing past Santana, barely touching the girl and feeling her skin tingle from where they did touch. She sat down on her bed and shifting back a bit, pushing some loose hair back behind her ear.

"So… Are you going to kiss me, or…" Saying it makes her blush. She knows she'll get used to it eventually, the longer they do this, but for now she still feels a bit shy. "Or are you just going to stand over there and frown for the next two hours?" she asked, almost in a challenging way.

Santana's head snaps up at this question, hearing the slight bite to it and taking it as the challenge Rachel seemed to have intended it as. Eyebrows raised, lips quirking, she shakes off her thoughts and strides towards her, deliberately letting her hips sway as she comes to stand in front of Rachel, spreading her legs to straddle Rachel's knees. Leaning over but still not touching, she stares down at her without speaking for several seconds. Then, with a sudden grin, she shoots out one hand, catching Rachel directly in the chest and shoving her back onto the bed before jumping beside her, giving a huge bounce.

Okay, so she said she wouldn't touch "above the chest" but surely this was an exception.


	11. Chapter 11

Baiting Santana is a lot like baiting a panther, decides Rachel, as she watched the Latina's hips sway and her lithe body actually _stalk _towards her. When she manages to look into Santana's eyes, she's also frozen in place, and Santana straddling her thigh, looking down at her, makes her let out a some sort of non-verbal sound that has everything to do with the sudden blush making its way from her cheeks and down her neck.

Then, suddenly, she's on her back, Santana next to her, and she actually_moans_ at the suddenness, almost roughness, of the action.

On instinct, she encourages Santana to move on top of her, arms immediately going to wrap around the girl's neck as she draws the taller girl down for a kiss, legs spreading on their own to allow the cheerleader to lay between them.

Oh god, she didn't learn these moves from Finn or Puck either.

As Rachel wraps her arms around her, drawing her between her legs, Santana immediately settles into her, letting most of her weight come to rest against Rachel while keeping one elbow aside her to prop herself up, to keep from fully crushing herself on top of her. Her other hand slides around the back of Rachel's neck, lightly tugging the girl's face up towards her as she kisses her, a light peck at first, moving from her lips to trace her jawline, across her cheek, and then back to her mouth, deepening the kiss and slipping her tongue inside.

This was the craziest thing, this was completely unbelievable that this was even happening, let alone that she was thoroughly enjoying it, that her whole body was sparking and singing with pleasure. Santana let all thoughts and fears slips away, just for this moment, as she kissed Rachel again, the hand on her neck slipping down her back to flatten between her shoulder blades as she pulled her closer still, flattening their chests together.

Okay so that was technically a breaking of the rule too but it wasn't her HANDS.

Any thoughts that maybe Santana didn't actually want this flew out the window as the cheerleader on top of her pushed her tongue into her mouth, making Rachel moan. She practically melted into the kiss, twisting her tongue with Santana's and moving hands under the girl's arms so that she could run her nails up and down her back.

When Santana forced their chests together tighter, Rachel whimpered, arching into the contact more, one leg hooking around Santana's waist as she breathed deeply through her nose.

She couldn't comprehend that this was actually happening; that Santana Lopez, one of the top Cheerios and HBICs was actually here, in her room, making out with her like this. And it was _good_.  
So much better than any of her dreams or fantasies that she had been having lately.

One of her hands scratched its way up to the Latina's neck again; she whimpered in annoyance at the ponytail, but opted to just scratching lightly into the back of Santana's neck, since she couldn't tangle her hands in the Cheerio's hair.

No coherent words came to Santana's mind as she continued to kiss and press her hands and skin into Rachel until she was breathless, literally gasping aloud. Even as she knew she needed to take a breath she resisted pulling away until the last moment, and then rested her forehead against Rachel's shoulder as she came up for air with an audible gasp, her body shuddering against her before going somewhat limp. It was incredible that just this, just kissing, a little petting, could affect her this much, but Santana wasn't knocking it, not for a second.

If she knew that being with Rachel Berry would be like this from day one…GOD the wasted time!

Rachel's leg is around her waist, causing the arch of Rachel's groin to press into her thigh, and Santana swallows hard from the pleasure this causes in her. Regaining her breath, she begins to kiss her way down Rachel's collarbone and then lower, towards the neckline of her shirt, as her fingers begin to tease their way up her shirt from beneath as well. She is now fully lying across Rachel, almost cuddling, her movements slower than before, her hair beginning to come loose from her ponytail as she inches her hands down from above and up from below her shirt

No coherent words came to Santana's mind as she continued to kiss and press her hands and skin into Rachel until she was breathless, literally gasping aloud. Even as she knew she needed to take a breath she resisted pulling away until the last moment, and then rested her forehead against Rachel's shoulder as she came up for air with an audible gasp, her body shuddering against her before going somewhat limp. It was incredible that just this, just kissing, a little petting, could affect her this much, but Santana wasn't knocking it, not for a second.

If she knew that being with Rachel Berry would be like this from day one…GOD the wasted time!

Rachel's leg is around her waist, causing the arch of Rachel's groin to press into her thigh, and Santana swallows hard from the pleasure this causes in her. Regaining her breath, she begins to kiss her way down Rachel's collarbone and then lower, towards the neckline of her shirt, as her fingers begin to tease their way up her shirt from beneath as well. She is now fully lying across Rachel, almost cuddling, her movements slower than before, her hair beginning to come loose from her ponytail as she inches her hands down from above and up from below her shirt.

Rachel lets out a breathless whimper as Santana's hot mouth presses kisses to her skin. Her eyes have fluttered shut, and though she doesn't quite know what to do with her hands, her nails are digging rhythmically into Santana's neck and back as she moans softly and arches her back once again.

Her chest is heaving a little, the flush now traveling down her neckline, and the leg around Santana's hip tightens. Everywhere Santana touches feel hot, and it's so obvious that the Latina above her is experienced; has done this before or something like this.

But Rachel isn't thinking about anything except what she's feeling, and the fact that she never thought that just a heavy petting session (though was it really heavy if Santana wasn't touching her breasts?) could ever make her body so _hot_. And as she feels fingers on the bare skin of her stomach her hips jerk up as she gasps in surprise.

Santana can't take this anymore.

She's been sticking within the boundaries Rachel prescribed, touching only her back and stomach while kissing only her neck and face, but it's absolutely killing her. The way Rachel is moving beneath her, the way she keeps scratching her fingers into her neck and back, the way she feels so warm and alive beneath her, how can she keep her hands in one tiny area? How can she not keep touching and exploring and making herself and Rachel feel more and more and more….

Kissing Rachel on the mouth again, thoroughly, fully, Santana let's her hands "accidentally" roam down Rachel's back to grab her ass through her pants, squeezing firmly, even as her other hand slips the rest of the way up Rachel's shirt to smooth over her breast, feeling her heart beating wildly beneath

Santana can't take this anymore.

She's been sticking within the boundaries Rachel prescribed, touching only her back and stomach while kissing only her neck and face, but it's absolutely killing her. The way Rachel is moving beneath her, the way she keeps scratching her fingers into her neck and back, the way she feels so warm and alive beneath her, how can she keep her hands in one tiny area? How can she not keep touching and exploring and making herself and Rachel feel more and more and more….

Kissing Rachel on the mouth again, thoroughly, fully, Santana let's her hands "accidentally" roam down Rachel's back to grab her ass through her pants, squeezing firmly, even as her other hand slips the rest of the way up Rachel's shirt to smooth over her breast, feeling her heart beating wildly beneath.

Rachel jumps a little, her hand immediately going to put her hand over the one on her chest. She freezes, jolted a bit by the contact. "S-Santana…" she murmurs, feeling more nervous. She slowly moves the hand back to her stomach, biting her lip.

The hand on her ass, however, oddly enough, doesn't really bother her. Not in a bad way at all. Actually, it's… a lot more enjoyable than she thought it would be. "Please… Not… Not right between my legs or my chest."

She was actually ready for Santana to just get up and leave now. And it scared her. Twisted in her stomach, the idea that she wasn't going to be enough for the girl and she'd just find someone more willing to let her do as she pleased.

Ughhhh really? She had actually been serious?

Well Santana was sure of one thing, and that was if they kept going at the rate they had been, it was going to be about ten thousand times harder to make herself listen. So with a long, shuddering inhalation, she took away her hands entirely, rolling off of Rachel and lying beside her instead, taking in several deep breaths in an attempt to calm her racing heart.

"If you mean that, I gotta stop," she explained, still a little breathless. She let a few more moments pass in silence, and then, when she thought she was a little more in control, reached out a hand to awkwardly pat the side of Rachel's leg. Another few moments passed, and she let her shoulder and hip press into Rachel's, her head bending to lean ever so slightly against the side of Rachel's too.

It wasn't exactly cuddling, but it was close, a semi invitation or question to begin. Deliberately Santana didn't let herself think about it, just responding to what she was feeling without question. And right now she still wanted to touch her, somehow, even if Rachel shot down gropage.

Rachel thought for sure that when Santana moved away she would leave, but to her surprise the Latina just laid down next to her. She was actually relieved for the break in momentum; Santana was right, after all. Had they kept going like that Rachel wasn't sure if she'd be able to really handle the inevitable at that point.

She was also… touched, in a way, that Santana had been the one to initiate the cool down period.

The smaller girl was so lost in her thoughts about this that at first she didn't recognize Santana moving closer. But when a hand touched her thigh, she shivered, torn between spreading or closing her legs. She decided to just not move them.

Then Santana was… sort of cuddling with her. In a way. She turned her head to the girl's, leaning in and reaching a hand up to cup her cheek, pressing her lips against the soft, plush one's of the cheerleader next to her.

As soon as their lips touched Rachel moaned quietly. The kiss wasn't as heated as it had been before, but it sent sparks through her system, and she turned onto her side so that she could more comfortably kiss Santana and press against her.

Here they go again and this time is no easier.

The moment Rachel kissed her, turning towards her to draw close again, the intensity of the response Santana felt shooting through her body was enough for her to groan lightly, and immediately her hands moved to pull Rachel in again, her mouth hot and eager against Rachel's in response to her kiss. But it's too much, too fast in too short a time to return, and reluctantly she pulls back again, trapping Rachel's hands so they can't keep touching her body as she lay back down, sucking in her breath as she shakes her head.

"If you really don't want to find all your clothes on the floor in about two seconds, we gotta stop."

A few things go through Rachel's head; Santana is definitely just as effected as she is, having the Latina restrain her hands does things to her body that she isn't quite sure what to make of, and… "Could you actually strip me in two seconds?" She's laying on her back again, those three main thoughts spinning around her head.

And all though she's flush and breathing heavier than she ever has with Finn or Noah, she feels good. Not ashamed, or scared, slight nervous still, yes, and a little anxious, but over all.

Also, she still remembers Santana's hand on her ass and that had been nice, too.

"And… I think, I mean, if we keep doing this, and of course if you'd be okay with it, just because I'm not completely comfortable with being touched doesn't mean I couldn't learn to touch you, you know?" She's not sure if she's making sense, but if Santana's okay with Rachel touching her breasts and the like… well… Rachel is an eager student…

"You time me and we'll see," Santana breathes out in response to Rachel's question, thoroughly convinced that if she was put to the test, Rachel would indeed find herself naked in even less than the two seconds required. "Can't guarantee you could ever wear the clothes again, but I'd meet the time limit, promise."

She makes herself remain still, even though her hands itch to creep back over to Rachel, taking in continued even breaths even as her head droops slowly back towards Rachel's shoulder. But when Rachel speaks up again, Santana sits up hurriedly, turning to fully face her as she makes sure of what she's offering.

"Whoa, wait, you're saying…you're alright with feeling me up as long as I'm not feeling you up?"

Could she have even ASKED for a better deal?

Rachel is surprised by the sudden movement, and leans away a little simply from that, but she nods. "Well… yes… I mean, I don't really know what I'm doing, so you'd have to bear with me and maybe provide some guidance, but I wouldn't be opposed to it…" She sat up as well, looking at Santana.

"It may not be something I'm ready for, but you are, and it's only fair that I offer you that pleasure when you're being so patient with me about my own needs, Santana." And it wasn't exactly being selfless… Her hands, though not really know what to do, definitely wanted to touch Santana. Everywhere from her abs, to her legs, to her breasts. They were practically itching for the opportunity.

She bit her lip again. "I'd prefer to keep clothing on for now, because if I'm being honest seeing you… um… seeing you naked or shirtless might be too much stimuli right now, but yes. I would definitely be more than willing to touch you."

Santana would have to be stupid to say no to this. How much more could she possibly want? For Rachel to touch her with no strings attached, pleasuring her without also requiring that Santana pleasure her back…it sounded like one of those dreams that Santana always woke up from pissed off that it wasn't real after all.

Subtly she pinched herself just beneath her thigh, just to make sure it wasn't, and then, relieved to feel the pain from it, nodded, giving Rachel a genuine smile.

"Well if you're willing I'd be pretty stupid to stop you. Go to it then."

She sat very still, anticipant, already wondering how Rachel would go about this

Rachel took a moment to process what Santana had just said, then nodded. She carefully straddled the girl's lap, a little bit in awe of the opportunity being given to her.

Slowly, clearly nervous, Rachel settled herself fully on Santana's lap, reaching out a hand towards the girl's chest. Over Santana's uniform top, she tentatively palmed one of the boobs, blushing as she squeezed it, trying to remember what she liked and doing the same for the other girl.

Even under the top and with the sports bra Santana's breasts were amazing, and Rachel reached out her other hand, groping and squeezing the firm flesh in her hands. Then she moved her hands down, slipping them under the top and marveling at the tight, toned abs that twitched and tensed under her fingers. "Ow wow…" she breathed out, scratching her nails against the muscles as she slowly moved her hands up Santana's torso and to her chest again.

Her mouth felt dry, and her thighs tensed around Santana's hips a little. "Your… your skin is really soft… And your abs are just… and…" She was lost for words, so instead of talking, she decided to keep her mouth busy, and leaned in to start kissing and nuzzling into Santana's neck.

Santana was used to people being interested in her breasts. It was, after all, the one part of herself that she was sort of satisfied with, having had her dad shell out large amounts of cash to "fix" them. She was accustomed to people ogling them, talking towards them, and guys always zeroed in on them, grasping, squeezing, and pawing at them with heavy, often unintentionally rough hands. And she had never really been all that excited by it. It was expected, but not exactly enjoyed.

But what Rachel was doing was something new. For someone to touch her with gentle firmness, seeming to care how she was responding rather than simply getting herself off through doing so…again, her mind slipped back briefly to Brittany, but she pushed it down, concentrating on the moment, even letting her eyes come to rest on Rachel's, to hold their gaze as her muscles twitched beneath her, as Rachel had observed. Rachel was in her lap, and automatically Santana wrapped her arms around her waist, one hand tangling in Rachel's hair as the other girl began to tease her further, her lips and tongue christening the skin of Santana's neck and throat. Santana tightened her arm around Rachel, tightened her fingers in her hair as she moaned, squirming beneath her, impatient for what Rachel might do next.

Unbelievable unbelievable unbelievable…

Rachel was very much starting to get into this. She was still worried she wasn't doing something right, but Santana wasn't complaining at all and gradually her confidence was increasing.

She was about to ask Santana to lay on her back when, suddenly, there was a loud knocking on the door, and it opened up less than inch. "Rachel, dinner is ready! Will Santana be staying?"

The smaller girl had frozen in place, and only just barely was able to force her voice to sound calm and collected. "No, Daddy! We'll be down in a few minutes, though." With that the door closed, and the man walked away, leaving Rachel's heart thundering for an entirely different reason as she groaned, slumping a little against Santana's body. "I don't think I've ever been this upset about food… Um… sorry…" She slowly got off of the taller girl, looking down as all her nerves shot right back up.

Had it really been over an hour? How had she lost track of time so badly?

Then again, maybe she shouldn't have been surprised.

When the door knocked, Santana's heart boomed like an answering echo in her chest, and she bolted upright, almost thrusting Rachel away from her as she frantically tried to rearrange her clothing to a presentable fashion. When Rachel's father called out to her, asking about her staying for dinner, her anxiety further, and she vehemently shook her head at Rachel. Even the thought made her feel actually sick. What if he knew somehow what they were doing and that was why he didn't open the door all the way? What if Rachel let something slip? He had been on the other side of the door with Rachel on her lap and touching her up her shirt!

Santana doesn't move immediately as Rachel gets up, still inwardly freaking out. How was she going to get downstairs in anywhere near a normal seeming state?

Watching Santana freak out was… interesting, to say the least. "Santana… Do I need to remind that this room is sound-proofed…?" she asked, nonplussed at the girl's reaction. Shaking her head in a bit of a huff, Rachel got off the bed, going over to her dresser and mirror to rearrange her hair.

She wasn't sure why Santana's reaction bothered her so much, but it did. She could understand not wanting to be caught making out by her fathers (she didn't want that either) but the cheerleader didn't have to react so strongly about it… Was it her? Was Santana really that embarrassed to be doing this with Rachel Berry that the idea of anyone at all seeing it disgusted and scared her?

Sighing, realizing that she shouldn't be surprised at all, Rachel turned back to the Latina. "I'll walk you down. Sorry about my dads," she said, voice a little more clipped than she had meant it to be.

Rachel needed to stop getting her hopes up at all when it came to Santana, she knew. She'd end up a lot less hurt in the long run.

Sound proofed didn't mean sight-proofed or suspicion-proofed, but Santana couldn't form the words to say this. Instead she twitched her shoulders in a shrug, getting to her feet with only slight shakiness in her legs now as she followed Rachel to the door.

It wasn't so much that she was anxious over having done what she had done with Rachel, though that was a part of it- Rachel? Enjoying herself so thoroughly and completely with Rachel? Even if she was sort of starting to like the girl, it was still RACHEL, what the hell did that say about Santana?

But it was more than that. It was that she was still enjoying sexual activity with girls, not just Brittany but with ANOTHER girl, which was definite proof that she was gay. It was that she was unable to stop herself from enjoying it, that she enjoyed it so much more than she did with guys. It was that Rachel's dads were nice to her, that they seemed nicer than her own family, that they would accept Rachel being bi or gay in a heartbeat with nothing more than hugs and reassurances, whereas Santana's family…well, they wouldn't react like that, she was certain of that. It was that if anyone knew, if anyone ever figured it out, her life as she knew it would be ruined. It was that she would have to feel like this for the rest of her life, hiding and lying and ashamed, frightened and hating herself, hating everyone else for seeming so happy and free and unafraid. It was because she had enjoyed this so much and yet one half second of interruption and she was back to the crushing, desperate unhappiness and fear that made up the majority of her life now.

It was that even if she thrust all that aside, even if Brittany changed her mind right now, today, and loved her, that Santana would still be too scared, too much of a fucking coward to put herself out there and love her and enjoy her all the way, like she deserved.

It wasn't just that it was Rachel. In the grand scheme of things, that was nothing. It was everything, absolutely everything, and so Santana froze at the doorway of Rachel's room, tears coming to her eyes before she could bid them back. She ground her teeth together, widening her eyes in effort to force them down again, thinking to herself with desperate disgust that this was the absolutely wrong timing for this, that it couldn't possibly be any worse, but it was too bad because when had she ever listened to her own self?

"I don't have time for this being nice to parents shit, I gotta go, okay," she barely managed before bolting past Rachel out the door, down the steps, and out the front door, ignoring any efforts of Rachel's dads to address her. She kept her head down, deliberately out of their sight, and slammed the front door behind her as she almost ran towards her car, desperate to make it inside and shut the door behind her before she full on started to cry.


	12. Chapter 12

Standing there, trying to process what had just happened, as the pieces started falling into place Rachel found herself getting… _angry_. She felt hurt, and used, and just-

Without thinking she stormed downstairs, telling her fathers she'd be right back, and was out the door, glaring as she approached Santana's car. She swung the door open, not even bothering to take in the sight before her, tears already in her own eyes, and let everything out. "Santana Lopez! How DARE you! You do not- You just- I am so _angry _at you! You disrespect my fathers, and- and you-" She stomped her foot, ignoring the tears trailing down her cheeks.

"I may very well disgust you, but if it is that hard to be around me for any length of time without you- you needed _to paw at my body _then maybe we should just forget about this whole stupid thing! I may not have a lot of experience but I KNOW I am worth so much more than a- a grope and run! I have been nothing but kind and considerate to your insecurities and you continue to throw mine in my face! Well no more!" She sniffled, trying to get a hold of herself, wiping at her eyes angrily.

"I offered you a safe space here at my house. But it's obvious you don't care. I refuse to let you treat me like some cheap toy in my own home, and to have you disrespect my fathers." With that she turned to leave, already ashamed of herself for not wanting to do so.

Hearing Rachel yell at her was enough for Santana's spine to stiffen, her tears to mostly stop, and instinctively anger of her own flares up. When had she ever promised Rachel that she could be any of those things? When had she EVER told her that she was a respectful person or a nice person? When had she ever promised Rachel to be ANYTHING to her? Rachel didn't know anything about what this was like for her, she didn't know anything about what it was like to have so much to lose, Rachel had nothing to lose and everything to gain from this!

"I DIDN'T ASK YOU FOR ANY OF THAT!" she yelled back, sitting up straighter in her car and half leaning out towards Rachel aggressively. "I didn't ask you to invite me over, I didn't ask you to start groping me, you offered, it was YOUR idea! I didn't ask you to start dancing all over me like you did, I didn't ask you to stare at me in Glee, I didn't ask you to hug all over me or hang over me trying to fix me, I didn't ask any of that, it was ALL YOU! I never told you I would be a good person to you, I never told you I'd be nice to you or I'd be nice to your dads or that I could be anything to you at all, I never said that, I'm not a nice fucking person, Rachel, so get over it! I'm Santana Lopez, I'm a selfish bitch and everyone knows it, so don't expect me to be anything else!"

But her words were fairly overshadowed by the fact that she burst into tears all over again somewhere in the last sentence, which was fairly humiliating in and of itself. How was she supposed to be taken seriously if she was crying through everything she said?

"It's no fucking big deal to YOU, you're already such a loser that no one would care if you're gay…and your friends in Glee would hug up on you and sing a stupid song to you about it all about how great it is you're coming out, and they'd probably hook you up with someone and have some friggin rainbow themed party. Your dads wouldn't care at all, they'd probably be glad about it, it's NOTHING for you to be gay! Do you know what will probably happen to me if anyone EVER finds out? My abuela would probably call a fucking exorcist! My dad would probably think something was medically wrong with me and start forcing medicine down my throat, and my mom would cry and start taking sleeping pills. My friends would laugh at me and talk about me in the halls and all the guys would start grabbing me and saying they could cure me if I let them, and-and everyone would…everyone would…no one would sing me any songs because they'd be too busy writing about me on bathroom walls…it would…it would…"

The more she thinks about it, how alone she would be, how alone she feels now, even with none of this happening, the harder Santana's tears come, and acting purely on instinctive need for the contact, anyone's physical contact, she reaches to grab Rachel's hand, squeezing hard s she chokes out, "Rachel, I'm sorry. I just…I know you want…I know I should…I'm sorry."

This time it's not her emotions she's apologizing for, but her behavior earlier, though this may not be clear to Rachel. Squeezing Rachel's hand, inwardly praying she won't pull away, she puts her face against the steering wheel for the second time in only a few hours today, and cries with quiet but intense tears

She's too busy crying to try and interrupt Santana as she speaks, and when the Latina grabs her hand, she squeezes it in return, sniffling and trying not to sob as loudly as she would like to. "That's not true," she forces out, holding Santana's hand in both of hers. "Glee- Glee club would be there for you. And- and I would sing you as many songs as you- you wanted, and if- I just- You're _not _alone, Santana. And I wish I could make you see that."

Kneeling next to her, Rachel feels silly, but it was hard to care when she and Santana both were crying in her driveway.

"I don't know what else I can do, Santana. Or how I can help you. Or be there for you. Or anything. And- and you know I like you, and I told you— I_told _you why I have my own reasons for not being able to come out. So…" She's a complete mess, she knows. Crying and sniffling like this.

She's just glad it's dark out so that the neighbors can't see anything.

Although Rachel assure her Glee club would be there for her, Santana highly doubts this. Not when she's been so openly cruel to most of them, not when she has only rarely offered them genuine support. She is sure that they would swarm at the chance of being able to return cruelty, because who other than Rachel wouldn't? It was human nature, and she could hardly blame them for that sort of reaction.

But Rachel wouldn't. Rachel hadn't from the start, and just the thought of Rachel singing to her with such Rachel earnestness, genuinely trying to make her feel comforted and comfortable, did nothing to stem her tears or take away her guilt. She doesn't know what to say to Rachel, how to tell her that the thought makes her feel soft and vulnerable and strangely broken inside. She doesn't know how to say to her that she's sorry she's made Rachel cry, yet again. She definitely doesn't know how to say to her that if Rachel had any sense at all, she would just back off and never speak to or touch Santana again, not when the one thing Santana wants right now is just to be touched. To touch Rachel.

She can't make any of these words that she knows she should say, that she knows are true, come out, so instead she slowly lets her forehead bow down towards Rachel, coming to rest at an awkward angle against Rachel's cheek. Still gripping Rachel's hand, she half leans into her in this way, tears dripping into her collar bone, some lightly staining Rachel's cheek before dropping down.

achel moves her arms to wrap awkwardly around Santana's neck, hugging her as best she can in this position, and buries her face in the girl's neck as she tries to calm herself down.

There's so much going on in her head, and her heart, and she can't possibly make sense of it. She just wants Santana to stay and hold her and for them to able to pretend for a while that Lima isn't out there. That it doesn't exist, isn't full of bigots, and that it's okay to be something not considered normal, whatever that may be, and feel safe.

And she realizes, as weird as it sounds to her even, that being close to Santana does make her feel safe. Or at least, safer.

A few weeks ago that would have been completely the opposite, but now, even when her heart is racing or she's nervous or anxious around the girl, she does feel a certain sense of security. It makes no sense, yet somehow the feeling is there, and it feels like just by having brief physical contact calms her down a little more.

Finally, although it feels like forever, her tears start to slow, and she's left sniffling against Santana's Cheerio uniform, probably staining it with her tears. "M'sorry for yelling at you…" choked out Rachel, swallowing the lump in her throat.

When Rachel put her arms around her, hugging her the best she could manage in their strange positioning to each other, Santana lets herself go a little more, fully bowing her head down into Rachel's shoulder and wrapping her arms around the other girl as well with a shuddering sigh. She can feel Rachel's breath against her neck but gets no pleasure from it now, only a slowly forming sense of comfort to have her close.

For the moment, she doesn't care that she's basically out in the open where anyone driving by could see her crying and holding onto Rachel Berry like Rachel is the only person she has in the world. Which, Santana feels in the moment, is basically the truth. She doesn't care that she can feel Rachel staining her uniform with tears and maybe even snot and that Coach Sylvester will kill her if it's not clean by tomorrow, and she doesn't care that she's pretty sure she's ruining Rachel's clothes too with her own bodily fluids. She doesn't care about anything right now except continuing to hold Rachel and have Rachel hold her back.

Eventually her crying eases around the same time that Rachel's seems to be, but she doesn't pull back. Her neck is beginning to ache from the awkward angle she's sitting in, but she doesn't move, not lifting her face as she hears Rachel apologize.

"Me too," she mumbles back into her shoulder, releasing another long sigh. "I mean…sorry."

She can't remember the last time she apologized so much in one day, hell, one week, either, but she doesn't care about that either, not now

odding, Rachel finally drew back a little, though slid her hands down to hold Santana's again. She sniffled again, wiping her eyes on her sleeve a little awkwardly before speaking. "Um… Are you- Are you still leaving? Cause I can- I can make you a salad instead. Dad and Daddy wouldn't ask." She flushed, though her face was already red from the crying. "Not- not that you have to stay. I just- S-sorry."

Her knees were starting to really hurt, but she stayed where she was, looking up at Santana, unsure of how to proceed.

She didn't want the girl to leave, of course. If only because she knew that Santana was going home to a place where she had to hide herself so much. But she understood if the girl wasn't comfortable in the Berry home. Rachel hoped that, with time, that could change.

But for now, she didn't want to push Santana. Just let the girl know that she had other options, and that the door was always open.

It was so tempting to stay. Where else did she have to go? Home, where her father would be gone half the night and her mother barely noticed whether she was there or not, where her abuela would look at her with her eagle sharp eyes and ask her what the matter was before she could sneak past her and then think she'd been out with a boy? Home, where she would probably end up throwing up in her bathroom whether or not she ate anything for dinner from all the stress of this day?

But how would it be any better if she stayed here? Surely Rachel's dads would know something was up since she basically pushed past them out the door, it would take her more than a few minutes to disguise that she had been crying. She'd have to apologize to them or they'd really have questions and how could she do that? And then eat in front of them? Or even just in front of Rachel? Even if Rachel's dads were polite to her, and Santana was sure they would be, how could they not be wondering about her?

She wanted to, but it just seemed impossible to try.

"I…sorry," she mumbled yet again, shaking her head. "I can't, Rachel."

Rachel nodding, pulling Santana down for a tight hug. "Just… please be safe," she said into the girl's ear, before finally pulling back, and getting up off the ground.

Her knees were red and a little scraped up from the cement, as well as a little sore, but it was definitely the last thing on her mind. "Um.. You can text me, if you want. Whenever you need to. You should have my number from Glee." She took a step back so that Santana could close her door, offering her a small wave.

"S-see you later, Santana… Be safe," she repeated, a little quietly.

Sniffling, Santana nods back, wiping beneath her eyes with her fingertips after giving Rachel a returning hug. Impulsively she lets her cheek brush against Rachel's, almost like one might an affectionate kiss, and doesn't let herself think about what it might mean as she watches Rachel back away.

Nodding again to acknowledge that she might text Rachel or at least knows the option is there, she gives her a small wave before slowly backing her car down the driveway, taking deep breaths to keep herself in a semi calm state. By the time she pulls into her home she is composed and ready to blow off anything her grandma might say to her, but still, as she makes a quick exit to her room, her thoughts are heavy.

She wonders how long she should wait before texting Rachel to not look way pathetic.


	13. Chapter 13

** Author note: All Brittany parts written by britt-britt-pierce, for this and future. I need to add her as a co-author. **

Santana didn't know what she was doing anymore.

She had this thing…whatever it was…with Rachel now. In some unbelievable way, she liked Rachel, was actually even attracted to her. On some level, was having a hard time stopping thinking about her. And touching her, and kissing her, and…well, everything else in between.

But then there was Brittany. And as weird as things had been with Brittany, and as confused and hurting and strange and sad she felt, with or without her around…she knew she loved her. How could she not love her? And if Brittany didn't even notice how she had been avoiding her, or that things were…well, weird, between her and Rachel…then how could she not just pretend nothing had changed?

She was doing this thing with Rachel. She liked Rachel. Unbelievably, she didn't want to hurt Rachel.

But she loved Brittany. And so when she asked Brittany to meet her at her house after Cheerios practice, Santana was more than a little confused.

Brittany, in all honesty, was a bit nervous about going to Santana's again; it seemed like such a long time since she'd been there- not really but it seemed like it. She knew that something was going on in Santana's life, she wasn't talking to Brittany as much and she was hanging out with Grandma Berry… a lot.

She just wondered why Santana didn't like her anymore, why Santana liked hanging out with Rachel more than her all of a sudden. It was strange and saddening. What was so great about Rachel other than the fact that she sang good and sometimes smelled nice? Brittany thought that she was so much better than that, she could sing, dance and she smelled like candy 24/7 because it made people like her.

Brittany pulled up to the front of Santana's house after stopping at hers to change out of her Cheerios uniform. She walked from her car up to the front door; she knocked on the door in the rythm of Tik Tok. She chewed on the inside of her lip and played with the hem of her shirt as she waited. Usually, she would've let herself in, but with things being the way they were she didn't want to just walk in.

Tik Tok knock- clearly Brittany. And the weird thing was, Santana was actually nervous.

This was lame, to actually dawdle in answering the door. This was Brittany. Nothing had changed, Brittany certainly hadn't and never would. But it feels like everything has, somehow, or that it soon might be, and Santana's insides are twisted and unsettled every time she sees her. How is she going to spend the whole night with Brittany without her figuring out something's up?

Santana's abuela is calling out for her to get the door as Santana moves past her, slower than usual. Opening it, she smiles at Brittany nevertheless, looking her up and down and feeling her heart squeeze just to see her. Why did she always look so damn pretty?

"Lookin' good, Brit. Come on in."

Santana seemed to be taking forever to get to her, but when Santana was right in front of her it made a smile fall upon Brittany's face, and when she said that she looked good, it made her smile even bigger. It was definitely worth the wait. Her heart was thumping and she felt like it was about to fall out of your chest right onto the floor.

"Thanks," She giggled. "You look good too." Brittany walked past Santana into the home that she was so used to being in; it was almost like her home on the side. "I mean, when don't you though?" Brittany asked in a slight whisper. She could see Santana's abuela sitting in the living room watching something in Spanish and she didn't dare even say hello. Brittany stepped to the side and let Santana lead her to her room.

It hit her that much harder, being face to face with Brittany, the closest she had been to her in weeks, how much she had really missed her. God, she could smell her perfume even though she wasn't touching her yet, her eyes kept dropping to Brittany's lips, taking in the genuine, open happiness in her eyes- happiness to see HER. How many people smiled at her like that, how many people were really that glad to be with her, no matter how she acted?

Just Brittany. That was it. Even if Brittany couldn't be what Santana wanted, even if she couldn't love her exclusively, she did love her, and Santana had no idea how she had managed to wall herself away.

She pushed thoughts of Rachel out of her head- they didn't belong there anyway, damn it, Rachel had nothing to do with Brittany. Instead she took Brittany's hand and squeezed it, with only one glance back towards her abuela's watchful eyes as she pulled Brittany into her room and shut the door.

"Missed you," she said genuinely, without explanation. Somehow, Brittany brought out both honesty and deceit in her, in unprecedented levels.

Santana's hand laced with her own gave Brittany a warm feeling inside- it surprised her how simply holding hands could fill her with so much joy. The way Santana squeezed her hand made her heart pound hard until she loosed her grip and then she just wanted Santana to squeeze her hand again.

In the room as Brittany sat down on the bed crisscrossed, she decided that by the way Santana was looking at her nothing was going on with her. Nothing she really needed to be worried about anyways. Santana was always going through these periods where she wouldn't speak to her for a few days, this one just happened to be a bit longer than usual. Which obviously made her sad, because who doesn't want to talk to their best friend every single hour of the day? Or see a pretty face like Santana's every day.

"I missed you too. You know, we wouldn't have had to miss each other if someone would've answered her phone." She raised her eyebrows and pointed her finger at Santana.

Brittany was good at the guilt trips, something Santana very rarely felt with anyone else. Trying to deflect it, she shrugged, reaching out to lightly tug at a strand of the girl's hair.

"Yeah, well…you know how I am sometimes. But we're together now, right, so it's all good."

She took Brittany's pointing hand and wrapped her fingers around it, squeezing lightly again and squirming slightly at the warmth that spread up her arm and down through her chest even at this slight contact. Scooting a little closer, she let her knees touch Brittany's, leaning into her and looking back at her, waiting to see what Brittany would do next.

Rachel's face came into the back of her mind, and again she shoved it back. Rachel had NOTHING to do with this.

Brittany was good at the guilt trips, something Santana very rarely felt with anyone else. Trying to deflect it, she shrugged, reaching out to lightly tug at a strand of the girl's hair.

"Yeah, well…you know how I am sometimes. But we're together now, right, so it's all good."

She took Brittany's pointing hand and wrapped her fingers around it, squeezing lightly again and squirming slightly at the warmth that spread up her arm and down through her chest even at this slight contact. Scooting a little closer, she let her knees touch Brittany's, leaning into her and looking back at her, waiting to see what Brittany would do next.

Rachel's face came into the back of her mind, and again she shoved it back. Rachel had NOTHING to do with this.

"Yeah, I guess," Brittany breathed out.

Even though she could've pulled her finger away from Santana, she didn't. Any kind of touch was nice when it was from Santana. She watched their knees press together and when she looked up Santana was literally right in front of her- if she just leaned in a touch she could kiss Santana and god she wanted to.

Something in her deep brown eyes changed for a moment, confusing Brittany. She was just looking at you with a sparkle in her eye, but it was gone now. That had never happened before… a lot of things Santana was doing had never happened before. She leaned back just a smidge.

"Are you okay, Santana? Like, really okay?" She scrunched her nose when she asked only because Santana had told her once that she was cute when she did that.

Why was Brittany leaning away?

Santana is momentarily distracted by this and almost doesn't realize that she is asking her a question. Looking up, she blinks, unconsciously licking her lips as she considers her response. She hates lying to Brittany, hates the way she feels, empty and false and wrong inside when she does. And how can she lie to her when she scrunches up her nose like that, like a little blonde rabbit in a ponytail? Yet how can she not lie to her?

Santana exhales, then settles for shifting closer again, scooting in so they are sitting side by side. She leans her head against Brittany's shoulder, breathing in her scent slowly, and doesn't directly answer her question. That's the only way she can think of to avoid a lie.

"I'm tired, Brit. Haven't been sleeping a lot."

She IS tired, but the tiredness goes beyond physical exhaustion.

Brittany let Santana's head lay on her shoulder, there was something about that that felt so comfortable. Maybe it was the fact that she'd been doing that for as long as Brittany could remember, so it was completely normal for them. Maybe it was something else. Britany wasn't entirely sure.

The blonde kissed the top of the girl's head and sighed.

"You know, when I'm tired and I can't sleep sometimes my sister comes into my room and lays with me. She's like psychic and knows when something is wrong. Do you want her to come lay with you?" She poked Santana's leg, as a sign that she was joking.

She was pretty positive that that was all that was wrong with Santana, that she was just tired. Brittany was sure if it was something else Santana would tell her, Santana wasn't one who kept secrets. She was very vocal about how she felt and when she did keep things to herself it made Brittany kind of sad in a way. She didn't like her best friend not sharing things with

Santana laughed, her body relaxing into Brittany's as she nestled her head more firmly into the crook of Brittany's shoulder, curling her arm through the other girl's as well. It felt better already to be close to Brittany again, to be talking to her and laughing with her and pretending just for now that everything was like it always had been, that nothing was different. It didn't have to be, if she didn't let it. It didn't.

She could just snuggle up to Brittany and enjoy being so close, enjoy hearing her wacky thoughts and smelling her perfume and feeling her hands running over her arms or head or back…she could just hug up to her and not notice her heart beating faster or Brittany's lips looking so shiny and not think about how she might taste-

Damn it this wasn't working.

She forced herself not to tense up as she replied. "Nah, I'd rather lay with you, silly."

Damn, would she. Even if it was a stupid idea.

The sound of Santana laughing replayed over in her mind, for just a moment though. She just loved that sound.

Brittany felt happy when Santana said she wanted to lay with her, especially since Brittany was going through a severe case of 'cuddles from Santana withdraw'; she'd gotten cuddles from a few people within the time they weren't talking, but no one's cuddling was as good as Santana's. She was a nice snuggler- practically a pro.

"Well, I'm glad you'd rather lay with me than her." That was the truth.

She pulled her arm away from Santana so she could lie back on the bed, she flashed Santana a big smile. "Come cuddle with me." She didn't know why, but right then she felt like Santana hadn't disappeared for a few weeks and they had been doing things like normal, yet at the same time she couldn't get the feeling of… abandonment away. She tried so hard to push it away so she could enjoy her evening with Santana, but that only worked sometimes.

Santana didn't have to be asked twice; it was what she had wanted for weeks now, sometimes all she had been able to think about, until it seemed her skin was screaming for Brittany to touch it again, soothing it with her simple presence back to its normal state. Sometimes she literally didn't know how she could ever manage to relax if she didn't have steady access to her; she had no idea how she had managed so long without being around her.

Joining Brittany on the bed, Santana snuggled in close beneath her arm, winding her own arms around Brittany's waist and resting her head against Brittany's chest. She could hear the blonde's heartbeat now against her ear, and she cherished this, trying to think of nothing else as she relaxed her body against her. This, she was sure, sometimes, was all she needed in life.

Then why did she still feel not quite right?

Brittany pulled Santana slightly closer to see if it'd fill the hole and although it filled the small space between the two of them, it didn't make her feel completely better. She loved the fact that Santana was right there, where she hadn't been for a while, but still something seemed to be different between them.

Maybe Santana sensed that she'd been cuddle-cheating on her and she wasn't happy about it. Her heart started pounding; she mentally yelled- extremely loud- at it telling it to stop because she was pretty sure Santana might notice the difference. She'd notice and then she'd have to break Santana's heart into a million little pieces and she'd never forgive her for it or she'd freak and yell at her. She'd seen Santana yell and she wasn't prepared for something like that.

She had to change her thoughts so she could get herself under control: unicorns and rainbows, little leprechauns sitting on the rainbows talking with the unicorns. Even though it was a funny thought, she couldn't stop thinking about her cuddle-cheating.

Santana nuzzled her head slightly into Brittany's chest, overlapping their legs more closely together, and enjoying when Brittany pulls her still closer. This was what she wanted, exactly what she wanted and needed. Being with Brittany, the center of her touch and attention. Being close, being her best friend. Being loved by her.

So why did she feel like this still wasn't quite right?


	14. Chapter 14

Rachel lay curled up on the couch, staring somewhat listlessly at the TV in front of her, which was playing some sort of Broadway history special. Normally she'd be all over this, but tonight she just felt… sad. That was the best way to describe it, she thought to herself.

She wasn't completely sure why she felt so tired, and sad, but she did, and it had permeated through her all day, to the point where it had been a miracle she'd bothered getting out of bed and showering and having breakfast at all. On the positive side, Santana was apparently coming over. On the negative side, Santana was coming over.

What would Rachel even do? She wasn't sure she'd have the guts to… well.. do anything with Santana. Not when she'd constantly be worrying about how much better Brittany was at any of it.

Would she even want to cuddle?

Because it was obvious that Santana had no problem in the least about cuddling with Brittany, and here was Rachel, feeling like she had to bribe the Latina half the time.

She didn't think Santana would have told her all on her own about her little hang out session with Brittany, not if Brittany hadn't made a remark about her "cuddle buddy" in Glee. Rachel had tried not to react, tried not to show that it bothered her. But Santana had seen her face, and later that day, there had been testy remarks from her, and although she had announced she was coming over to see Rachel rather than talk about it where anyone could hear, Rachel couldn't help but wonder why she was bothering.

With a groan, Rachel tried shaking the thoughts off, straightening up a little and deciding to just… play it by ear.

There had to be _some _reason Santana was sticking around. There was no point in giving the girl less of a reason to be around her than she already had, after all. Might as well try to make the best things.

Of course, that didn't mean she was going to change out of her pajamas or anything.

She was in purple footie pjs with gold stars all over them, and she was staying in them. Santana could tease her all she wanted, but Rachel was comfortable, and after the rough past few days she deserved to be comfortable in her own home.

The clock on the wall struck 6pm, and Rachel knew Santana would be arriving soon. It was only a matter of time, now.

Santana had absolutely no idea what she was doing.

She and Brittany were speaking again. True, she still hadn't resolved anything with her, or how she felt about her, but she had enjoyed her time with her and touching her as much as it had hurt to not be guaranteed more, and she was glad on some level that they were hanging out again. She had missed her so deeply it was like missing her own limbs. And yet being back with Brittany again, still keeping her feelings shoved down, made the pain when she was apart from her, and even curled up beside her but not truly WITH her, that much more intense.

She should be happy. She was, on some level. But all of this was so damn complicated now. Because nothing was like she wanted with Brittany, really, and then there was Rachel.

Santana didn't know still what this thing with Rachel was. If she was talking to Brittany again, the Rachel thing should just fade out of her mind. She shouldn't still want to be around her or care what Rachel did or thought, and she certainly shouldn't care how she felt or about being…could she seriously be thinking about keeping her word and being FAIR to Rachel Berry?!

She could spend another day with Brittany and she was still choosing to go to Rachel. As much as she didn't like to think about it, she knew that she liked Rachel, though how much was a different and not-going-there matter. And she was sort of worried about her too, because Rachel being in such a weird pissy mood, that was just weird.

And the thought of her not wanting her to come over, possibly, had actually sort of hurt. The thought of her getting freaked out once she started analyzing what they had been doing and deciding to back down, to go back to Finn or Puck or whoever else instead, made her feel weirdly hot and edgy all over. Sort of like she wanted to hit someone. A lot.

So what the hell?!

As Santana drove into Rachel's driveway, then made her way to the front door, she was trying not to think of anything about her own feelings. Better to focus on Rachel's, on what was up with her being so weird and short with her yesterday, because it sort of had seemed like something might be wrong.

But although she had intentions of playing nice, this fled the second Rachel answered the door in her ridiculous kindergartner pajamas. Santana's eyebrows shot up, and she grinned, one hand on her hip as she deadpanned, "If I knew this was teletubby night I would have borrowed Brittany's attennae headband. Oh wait, no I wouldn't because she threw it out after we graduated second grade."

Santana had expected Rachel to snap back at her, or at the very least to start sputtering defensive replies at top speed. But the girl just looked…defeated, somehow. Sad. And she didn't argue with her at all. She just asked her to stop, like Santana was in her mind back to being the bully she had always been towards her before…all this stuff. Like she was again just a victim.

Santana was more uncomfortable than she would have anticipated by this. She shifted her weight, frowning with some concern, and started to ask a question, but then Rachel was coming forward to hug her, with less enthusiasm but for a longer period than Santana expected too. When Santana started to hug her back, though, with delayed reaction, Rachel pulled away, curled up on the couch, and said nothing.

Now Santana was genuinely thrown. This was so…un Rachel. What was going on, to make her look so small, so sad?

"Hey, what's wrong?" she asked more softly, taking a hesitant step towards her, then sitting beside her feet on the couch, turning to face her. "Are people still bothering you in school? Give me the names and I'll take care of them."

They better fucking not be.

Rachel couldn't help but smile a little at the Latina's words. It actually sounded like she genuinely cared. Shrugging, the singer replied just as softly, "I don't know. No one's been bothering me anymore than usual, and there aren't any slushies or anything." Finally actually looking at Santana, the tiny smile still on her lips, though not quite reaching her eyes, she shrugged. "I'm just tired."

Tired of questioning everything, tired of wondering what was going on, tired of feeling so strongly towards a girl that really only had eyes for her exact opposite. Just tired.

Curling back up, she nodded her head towards the remote. "You can change the channel, by the way. I'm not really watching this. I think I've seen it before, anymore."

Her heart hurt, and it felt like it was actually trying to draw up and out of her chest, towards Santana. She wanted to cuddle with the girl, yet she didn't, but she did. It was confusing, frustrating. Made Rachel's head hurt just thinking about it, and she wished, more than anything, that she could get some of her fire back.

This wasn't her. She wasn't this… whatever it was. She could go toe to toe with Santana, and had always fought for what she wanted, and-

She just wished she could remember how to do that without feeling like she was going to break a part from it.

Santana continued to regard Rachel, frowning, as she processed her response. It was true that Rachel hadn't slept in like, three days. But she would think, knowing Rachel, that this would make her more manic and chipper and hyped up on wired adrenaline and too much caffeine or something, rather than lying around like someone had let air out of her lungs or something.

"Tired" was what Santana had said to Brittany, to deflect her. A truth without full truth. And this was what it looked like Rachel was doing to her.

Still concerned, Santana slowly reached out a hand to stroke through Rachel's hair. For a few moments she played with her hair, and then she eased more closely against her, forgetting her irritation with her from earlier in her reluctant, awkward concern now. She leaned towards her, then against her ever so slightly, still playing with her hair even as she spoke, quietly, even gently, but firmly.

"I think that's bullshit, Rachel."

The moment Santana began stroking her hair, Rachel knew the dam was going to burst. She had never been good at burying her feelings for too long, not when pushed, and she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes as she clamped them shut tightly, jaw going tight and throat constricting along with her chest.

As Santana drew closer, Rachel couldn't stop herself from shifting to lean into the Latina's body, curling up against her as she had been against the arm of the couch. She swallowed thickly, trying to hold everything in, bottom lip trembling.

It was Santana's last statement, said so carefully and firmly, that finally did her in.

She laughed, though it came out mostly as a sob, and sniffled, trying to swallowing it down again but already tears were starting to escape from the corners of her eyes. "Will you leave if I start crying? Because I think I'm going to," she choked out, shoulders already starting to shake a little. "I don't want to. But I don't think I can help it."

Another stifled sob, and Rachel sucked in air, still desperately trying to make it stop, to not show any more weakness around Santana.

Not when the cheerleader would probably stop talking to her within the next week or so.

Santana had continued to watch, her fingers still moving with slow, controlled strokes through Rachel's hair as she took in the girl's reaction to her, how her face seemed to shiver with suppressed feeling. She knew without Rachel needing to announce it that she was going to cry, and Santana's own throat closed partly over, her mouth going dry with dread and steadily increasing concern, almost panic, for herself now as well as Rachel.

Something must have happened, something awful. Why else would Rachel act this weird? Was she sick, or someone else in Glee…cancer, leukemia? Was it her dads, something to do with them, was that why they were gone? Had they abandoned her? Or had they seen her with Rachel? Had Rachel told them what was going on between them and they hated Santana so much they told Rachel she could never be around her again? Was Rachel about to…well, not break up with her, because they hadn't been together, not really, but…well…not see her, or whatever?

Or had someone hurt her? Touched her, or hurt her, like…made her do something…

As Rachel began to cry, Santana ignored her question about leaving, barely hearing it. Her heart was booming, loud and rapid, in her chest, and she could barely bring enough moisture to her mouth to swallow as she stilled her hands on Rachel's head, asking, "Rachel, what, what the hell is going on? Did someone…is someone sick, or hurt, or…did someone hurt you? If someone hurt you…like…if they lay a hand on you, you gotta let me know."

If someone had…hurt her…Santana was going to kill them. That was all there was to it, she'd go to jail and enjoy it if it meant they were dead.

Shaking her head, practically hiding her face in the crook of Santana's neck, Rachel sniffled again, no longer able to keep the floor of tears under control as they streamed down her cheeks and fell against the Latina's warm, tanned skin.

"Y-you'll think I'm- You'll think-" she hiccuped, sobbing again and choking on her words. "You'll— say it's— it's stupid," she replied, dreading actually telling Santana what was bothering her; what was eating her up so badly.

"And I just-" another hiccup, and her body was racked with sobs again. She hadn't realized how much she had been holding in until it was starting to pour out, or how badly she just needed to cry. She did her best not to cry around her fathers these days, not wanting to worry them more than she already did, and here Santana was, worried and probably thinking the worst, or that Rachel was crazy or something.

Of course she already thought Rachel was weird, so crazy was just the next step, right?

Swallowing audibly, sniffling some more and pulling back just enough to look at Santana with her teary face and bloodshot eyes, she finally managed to speak a little. "Are you-" Rachel blinked hard, trying to wipe away some of the tears. "Are we not going to— to be friends, or- or whatever we- we are now?" she asked, feeling completely stupid and pathetic the whole time. "Be-because I-" She sobbed again. "I'll miss you. I'll miss you a lot."

Then she broke down again, wrapping her blanket around her tightly and whimpered, crying harder than before, part of trying to prepare for the inevitable backlash.


	15. Chapter 15

All it had taken was a few words and touches and suddenly Rachel's curled into her, crying against her, and this is something that's becoming all too common and all too familiar lately, all the more disconcerting to Santana because it DOESN'T feel entirely strange or terrible like it should. She should be instinctively shoving Rachel back and asking her what the hell was wrong with her, or at the very least stiffening up and not returning the girl's embrace. But instead Santana is automatically closing an arm around her, letting Rachel cling to her, and she doesn't feel disgust or shock or even great discomfort. In fact, most of what she feels is just worry- worry, and surprisingly swift desire to make Rachel smile again.

She hated this, feeling in Rachel's body how upset she was, hearing it in her voice and her sniffling and her barely coherent words. As Santana holds Rachel, her mind racing with the possibilities of what could happen to make her so very upset, she almost misses when Rachel finally manages to name what she's been asking repeatedly, and then the thought leaves her almost reeling with combined relief and new anxiety. Relief, because the question was so simple and harmless…and fear, because it wasn't, at the very same time.

Rachel was upset because she thought Santana didn't want to be friends with her, or wouldn't be anymore? Was that what they were, friends?

For days, maybe weeks Santana had been asking herself what she was doing, what she wanted, and still she had no answers. But she did know that Rachel voicing the possibility of not being around her made her stomach flip and churn with silent inner protest, and when Rachel said she would miss her, she had to bite her lip to keep tears from escaping her own eyes.

"I don't know," she said quietly, She owed her honesty at the least. "I don't…I mean…I would…I don't want to stop this. Whatever it is. But…yeah. I don't want to. I'd…"

Here she pauses, having to nearly force out the last of the words. "I'd miss you too."

They aren't the words or reaction that Rachel expects, and makes it Rachel look up at the girl, blurry eyes wide and surprised. "Really?" she asks, voice thick and small, as though she can't quite believe it. Santana would miss her? Even though she had Brittany now, she'd miss Rachel?

It didn't make sense, but really, nothing between them was making sense, so why should it start now?

And although she hadn't gotten a full answer, Santana said she'd miss her, and that… That was a lot more than she expected. Maybe all she needed to know for now. If nothing else it implied that the cheerleader did care, on some level, and did enjoy being around her, one way or another.

Nearly throwing herself at the girl, Rachel wrapped her arms around Santana's neck tightly, still crying, though not quite as hard anymore, and not even caring that she was practically in Santana's lap at this point.

"You're like my only real friend," the starlet murmured against Santana's neck. She had Glee, and sometimes Kurt and Mercedes talked to her, but they never invited her to things, or to their house. And she was pretty sure Kurt was more focused on taking her solos than anything else. She could respect that, but it was hard to build a friendship from it.

Really, all she had was Santana. And crush aside, she didn't want to go back to being hated by her. Not like they had been.

Santana didn't respond to Rachel's gestures and words at first, unsure of what to think or say. The girl was still upset, and it was upsetting to her too to see it, to know she was the cause of it, though she tried not to show it. As she wound her arms more tightly around Rachel, stroking her hand up and down her back, she swallowed several more times, blinking repeatedly to keep staving off the tears still pricking at her eyes.

This was all so damn confusing and painful even with the pleasure of it too that she sincerely did not know what to do or feel or even who she was, almost every day of her life now.

"I am not your only friend," she had to protest when Rachel said this, pulling back from her a little to make Rachel look at her. "Rachel, way more people in Glee like you than me. You're like, the center focus of that club, it practically revolves around you. Hate to say it but it's true. Honestly…you probably have more people who'd be there for you if you needed them to be than I do." She paused, looking away, before adding more quietly, "Not probably, definitely. So don't say shit like that."

Rachel could only shake her head slowly, reaching out to cup Santana's face in her hands, forcing the girl to look at her. "Tolerating me, needing me for my voice, is not the same as liking me, Santana. No one backs me up, no one wants to hang out with me after school, and after the rush of performance is done everyone goes their separate ways, with their friends. And I come home to my fathers, to sing, and practice more." She carefully used the pads of her thumb to wipe away some stray tears from the Latina's face, and went on.

"You stopped the slushies, you had my back when those two cheerleaders continued to harass me, you come to hang out with me, even when I'm being a diva. I think that qualifies as a real friend, Santana," she said softly, moving her hands down to take Santana's, squeezing them as she had that day in the driveway. "And honestly? I'd rather have your 'keep it real' brand of friendship than shallow, pretend-to-be-friends-to-keep-me-in-Glee friendship any day."

She hadn't even been thinking of the words as she spoke them, but Rachel knew they were true. Santana, for all the amount of hurt Rachel had been feeling, had been proving to be there for her when it mattered.

Like now, for example.

"And you know what? I don't think it's the number of friends you have. I like to think it's the quality of those relationships that matter the most. And you have a really, really fantastic friend in Brittany." Her chest ached just talking about it, but it was true, and Rachel was already in too deep with the honesty to stop now. "And I've already said that, if you ever need a safe space for being who you are, my house is open to you."

Tears still fell from her eyes, and when she smiled it was watery and trembling, but it was there, and it was real.

Santana had thought she was reasonably composed, considering the highly emotional circumstances she was finding herself in, and the fact that Rachel was talking and talking and TALKING about things that were hard for her to even think about, let alone voice. Pounding relentlessly on Santana's own guilt and fears and insecurities by voicing her pain, scratching away at Santana's efforts to maintain a fragment of her walls, and not having a clue she was doing it. And considering that Rachel was literally crying against her shoulder as she did it, Santana thought she was doing a damn good job of staying cool over it.

But then Rachel was wiping at her cheeks, and Santana, startled by the gesture, realized to her own surprise that somewhere in the middle of Rachel's earnest outpouring, she had started to cry too. Rachel is telling her all the reasons she's a good friend to her, her ONLY friend, and Rachel is dead serious even though it's all so wrong to Santana and not enough. How could Rachel think she's a good friend, her ONLY friend, after everything, how unfair was it that someone like Santana was counted as her ONLY FRIEND when she was honestly so much nicer and more accepting and…just…everything than Santana herself? What the fuck was wrong with people? What the fuck was wrong with Santana herself, that it was so damn hard for her to even be able to acknowledge she liked someone who was genuinely nice?

Brittany. It was easy for her to show she liked Brittany, who was genuinely nice…so what made that different? That Brittany was a cheerleader? Because Santana was such a shallow asshole that this still mattered to her, even though she hated Sue and all the other cheerleaders, even though she hated the majority of the other people in the school, she STILL cared what they thought about her, and her body, and…why the FUCK did she care about any of this?

Rachel is still telling her what a good friend she is, and it's all bullshit, because she deserves more. Rachel is telling her that she's safe in her house but Santana knows she isn't safe anywhere, not really, she's telling her that Brittany is a good friend to her and this is true, one of the truest things she knows, but Rachel is a good friend to, her friend. Rachel is her friend.

Santana knows this with sudden hard hitting clarity, and it is this realization that breaks the last straw for her.

Pulling her hands from Rachel's, she scoots away from her as the tears she hadn't even been aware of began to come harder, her voice now breaking to the point of being barely coherent with her sudden sobbing as her thoughts poured out of her, without any effort any longer to filter. She didn't want to let Rachel touch her, wouldn't move towards her for comfort. She didn't deserve that.

"I-I am not a good friend to you, I'm not a good friend to B-Brittany…I'm a shit person to you and to everyone. I-I know I am so don't-..it's just…sometimes it's like, I can't even help it, I think and I'm just like that automatically, I don't even have to think or try and it just comes out…I fucking tortured you, Rachel. I tortured you and I enjoyed it, s-so don't tell me what a good friend I am. I w-won't even be around you in public because of THEM, I don't even like them and they don't like me and I still care what they do or say or think about me, I still do all this crazy shit to myself for THEM and I can't even do what I want or s-say how I feel or b-be friends with who I want or anything at all because of them and I HATE them, I care and I shouldn't but I DO and I can kick their asses and e-embarrass them and say it doesn't matter but it does and it shouldn't, but it DOES to me."

By now she is hiding her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking badly as she continues to mumble tearfully into her hands, barely understanding her own self.

"I-I love Brittany so much…so fucking much, she's beautiful and, and she's pure and sweet and she likes me, she actually likes me and I can't…I can't even imagine people knowing how much she really matters and the things I want, how I feel…I can't even handle the thought of them knowing and how they'll l-laugh and make jokes and make it…I can't handle it, and I'm the p-person who DOES that to people, but it's just…I can't have it and it's not same for her and even if it was she wouldn't care but…but I do."

"And you," she adds after several more moments, lifting her head briefly from her hands to look back at Rachel with still teary eyes. "You, you're…you're so fucking NICE, and I thought I hated that but it's…I like you too and I…this thing we're doing, I don't want it to stop, but…I should be able to…I should be nice to you EVERYWHERE because I do, and I'm not, and I want…you're my friend, even if I don't…if I can't…I don't even fucking know, Rachel, I don't know anything, this is just…I don't know! I want this and I don't want it to…I want this to…"

She is crying again, dropping her head back into her hands, and it's a few moments before she whispers, "I don't know how loving people…and feeling good with them…can hurt so fucking much."

And it does not register to her that she just grouped Rachel in with loving Brittany. Doesn't dawn on her at all.

For the first time since this all began, Rachel is the one drawing Santana into her, holding her close and holding her tightly, running her hand through the girl's hair and resting her head on her shoulder, eyes closed to keep her own tears under control, trying to do whatever she can to comfort the Cheerio sobbing in her arms.

The thing is, Rachel knows it doesn't make sense for her to feel the way she does about Santana, as a friend or otherwise. Santana's right; the Latina has tortured her for years, laughed at her, called her terrible names, and most recently blackmailed her because of her sexuality. But she's starting to get to know Santana Lopez a lot lately, and although she won't excuse the behavior, she can forgive it. Especially when she knows the reasons behind it- understands them, even if she doesn't necessarily agree.

So she just keeps listening, and rocking Santana back and forth, and ignores how her heart feels like it's been stabbed as Santana talks about Brittany, in all her beauty and perfection. Rachel just listens; she's a good listener, when given the chance, she likes to think.

But then… Then Santana is talking about her. It's all jumbled, and barely coherent, but Rachel hears her, and she's not sure if it makes her feel better or ache more, but it's _real_.

Whatever is going on between her and Santana, it's real. It's something solid. Something they both feel, one way or another, and are both effected by it.

And Santana called her her friend.

It may not be everything she wants, but for now it's all she needs.

So Rachel grabs onto that, holds it tightly and close to her heart, staying quiet even as Santana has stopped speaking so that she can memorize the moment when Santana said she was her friend.

Rachel waits until it seems Santana has calmed down a little, then she speaks. "I'm not asking you to shout across the rooftops that you like me, Santana. Or that I'm your friend. You deserve to feel safe. And if you don't feel safe doing those things, then I'm not going to make you. I can deal with things at school. You may not think it, but I'm strong, and I can handle it. And… And I know you've got my back, even if it's in secret."

She squeezes Santana a little tighter, more for her sake than anything else, but hopefully it helps the Latina a little bit as well. "And… And I'm really proud of you. For telling me about Brittany. And your feelings. For being honest with yourself out-loud. That takes a lot of courage, Santana. You're a lot stronger than you think, okay? _You are_."

When she pulls away a little, it's to look Santana in the eyes. "You're strong, and you're beautiful, and someday you're not going to have to hide, or be scared. It doesn't matter if that's tomorrow or five years from now. You'll do it. I know you will. And you'll be happy. Because you really deserve to be happy. If you don't believe anything I say," she spoke, voice getting more earnest, "_please _believe that. That you _**deserve** to be **happy**_."

Somewhere in the middle of all this Rachel was holding her, rocking her, even petting her hair, and Santana can't begin to protest it or pull away. She bows her head into Rachel's shoulder and clutches her back, letting herself go, the intense emotions she is feeling and has been feeling for so long beginning to slowly ease with Rachel helping her release it, supporting her through it. She cries without speaking for some time, her fingers digging deeply into the material of Rachel's shirt, and when she has tapered off enough to hear, she listens to what Rachel has to say.

That she is strong. That Rachel is proud of her. That she is beautiful. All words she's heard before, but ones that still register as foreign, strange, and not quite believable. That she deserves to be happy.

She listens, and she sniffles into Rachel's shoulder, trying to tell herself to believe. Because one thing Rachel is, is honest.

Sighing heavily, exhausted all over again due to the outpour of emotion, Rachel relaxes against Santana, holding onto Santana just as tightly as Santana is holding onto her.

The quiet after she's done speaking doesn't feel tense or awkward. It's just sort of there. The natural progression of their conversation and tears, so to speak. She doesn't know how much time passes with them just huddled on the couch, clutching onto each-other, but the clock strikes 8:30pm, and Rachel is both startled by how much time as passed, and by how early it still is.

Leaning back from Santana, enough to see her face, Rachel softly places a kiss on the girl's tear-stained face, her own no better, and let's out a shuddering breath as the last of her emotional overload ebbs away.

"Are we always going to cry when you come to my house?" she asks, voice a little lighter, a little more teasing as she tries to regain her bearings. The fact that every time Santana as come over so far they've cried just makes for something to mention that doesn't involve their hearts.

She offers Santana a small smile, pushing some loose strands of her dark, ebony hair behind her ear.

It might be completely terrible timing to think about, but when with her hair messed up, eyes bloodshot, face red, and cheeks stained with salty tears, Santana looks beautiful. Rachel can't quite wrap her head around it. Probably never will.

Santana has reached the point now where she can't think, can't even form words or thoughts in her mind from her level of physical and emotional exhaustion. She rests against Rachel, arms wound around her, and takes comfort from their closeness, from the caring the other girl shows her in her touch without having to speak about it any further. She can't say that she feels good, exactly, but she no longer feels the weight of burden in feeling so strongly, and for now, that is enough.

When Rachel combs back her hair and kisses her, teasing, Santana manages a smile back, tentative, and tries to gather a more Santana-ish reply. All she can think of is "We didn't cry last time. I think the trick is me keeping you too busy using your mouth for more fun stuff."

Rachel snorts, smile getting bigger. She wipes away the last of her tears, running a hand through her hair. "Then you haven't been doing your job very well, have you?" she asked, giggling a little.

It was weird, how they had gone from sobbing messes to lightly joking around with one another; even a little flirty, maybe.

The TV was showing some sort of infomercial about kitchen knives, and was the only light in the living room, now. Rachel's body sunk into Santana, muscles feeling both tired and relaxed, chest not so tight and heart not beating quite so wildly anymore. She giggled again, because she could, and said, "For the record, if you knew how comfy these pj's were, you wouldn't say anything against them."

"Yeah, I've kind of sucked at it tonight…but there's still time for improvement, and I wouldn't want to lose out my reputation here," Santana muttered, even as she made no move whatsoever to actually get sexual with Rachel. Talk and tease as she might, she didn't have the energy right now to do much more, and she was too comfortable simply lying partly entwined, partly burrowing against Rachel to move.

She didn't know why Rachel was laughing, but it didn't annoy her like it usually might. Her lips twitched into a tired smile, and she plucked at one of Rachel's sleeves, her head still leaning against her shoulder.

"Bet you'd be more comfy out of them. Pretty sure you would be, actually."

Rachel stuck her tongue out at Santana, though the affect was possibly nulled by how she cuddled a little closer, laying back so that Santana was on top of her a little more as well. "You'd have to persuade me," she said in kind, voice casual though her cheeks tinted red— and not because she had been crying a few minutes ago.

"These footies have already proven themselves, you see." It was getting easier to just talk with Santana, and flirt, or tease. Especially now that she knew that Santana actually considered her a friend.

That alone had lifted such a heavy weight from her shoulders that it didn't feel so… ridiculous to let her guard down a little more around the girl. Besides, at this point Santana had seen her at her worst. Almost as much as her fathers. There wasn't much to bother hiding anymore.

"Proven themselves?" Santana's eyebrows shot up as she looked at the pajamas with new interest, and a flicker of jealousy as well as her mind went to work, imagining the possibilities behind the remark. If Rachel informed her Spastic Hudson had removed those pajamas with his teeth or something, well, she might have to strip them off and burn them, or something. Which could actually be enjoyable.

"I don't know," she murmurred, her fingers drifting beneath the neckline of Rachel's pajamas, lightly stroking the nape of her neck. "I'm pretty persuasive."

Rolling her eyes, Rachel replied, "Not like _that_. Get your head out of the gutter, Santana." Which was a funny choice of words, considering that was exactly where her own mind was quickly headed… Especially with the way Santana's fingers were creating hot trails sparking along her neck…

Goosebumps rose up anywhere Santana, touched, and she bit her lip as her eyes nearly fluttered shut. "You think so, hm?" she said in return to Santana's claims of persuasion. Laying back completely on the couch, looking up at Santana with eyes that Rachel just _knew _were getting darker, she swiped her tongue across her upper lip. "Then, why aren't you persuading me?"

Did Rachel KNOW when she licked her lips like that, then looking at them, thinking of kissing them, was about all Santana could manage to do with her brain?

It was a decent question. Rachel was there, close to her, and they were alone. All the ingredients combined for some serious "persuasion." Screw being tired, screw emotional drama, Rachel was laying there with one layer of clothing in between, even if it was basically a huge infant suit, and she was basically telling Santana to make out with her. What was stopping her?

Santana leaned in to kiss her, her hands already trailing down the back of her pajamas, fumbling to find a seam or zipper or some way to better her persuasion. Generally her hands did a better job than words.


	16. Chapter 16

For the past week, Quinn has been increasingly suspicious about the sudden interactions she's noticed between Santana and Rachel Berry. Lately the Latina has been talking and walking with Rachel, even seeming to tolerate her as a friend...but when she asked her what was up, Santana's evasive reply had not given her any assurance that it was part of a trick or forthcoming prank at all. In fact, she had more or less snapped at Quinn to leave her be and mind her own business. What was she trying to hide from her? Was it possible Rachel was actually blackmailing her to be her friend? It seemed the only thing that would make sense to Quinn. She refused to let out any information, and so Quinn needed to get to the weaker link. She needed more than what she had, and what she had wasn't enough to put the pieces together.

Prepared, she had Azimio and Rick next to her sides, slushies ready to be thrown if Rachel refused to make progress. Spotting said girl down the hall, she told the jocks to wait at a distance until she gave a signal before making her way towards the diva.

"You! With me," she snapped, pulling on her arm once she got to her and dragged her over to a corner. Quinn ignored the curious glances towards them and narrowed her eyes at Rachel. "I don't know what you're blackmailing Santana with to be so friendly with you, but I'm not stupid. What do you have on her?" she demanded.

The week had been relatively kind to Rachel, and after the trying weekend she felt revitalized and ready to tackle anything thrown at her, she was sure of it. Just as she closed her locker, she heard an all-too familiar, and rather unwelcome voice from behind, and before she could turn around, was being dragged by a tight grip on her arm. "Quinn! Unhand me this instant!" she cried out, glaring up at the co-captain of the Cheerios.

She stumbled when the blonde finally did let go, then drew back just a slight as the taller girl's glare settled on her. Steeling her spine and straightening up, Rachel crossed her arms, going so far as to even roll her eyes. "You're being ridiculous, Quinn. I've nothing 'on' Santana, and am insulted that you would even think that I would go so low as to blackmail."

Though that was sort of ironic, given that Santana blackmailing _her _had started this whole thing.

Taking a breath, she went on, fully prepared to rant this one out for the sake throwing Quinn off the hunt. "I value my high morals and consistency in taking the higher ground when dealing with such individuals as yourself or Santana. Therefore, I expect an apology. Also, it's very rude to grab someone like that. Had I not already closed my locker it would have been left open and any one could have stolen something. Or worse, taken our set list for Sectionals and leaked it to the enemy."

"Well there's obviously _something_ going on between you two. Did you really think you two could get away with whatever you two are doing? I've already seen you two sneaking around school." She had been making the Cheerios run miles around the football field when she noticed the two by the dumpsters. The glimpse of the brunette's outfit and the lack of another co-captain was enough for Quinn to be convinced, considering as she saw a Cheerios uniform next to Rachel that day.

Quinn had to resist the urge of walking away in the middle of her rant, already annoyed with the tiny brunette. "I'm not apologizing for anything, Berry. My timing was right. You're just lucky it's closed."

Shaking her head abruptly, she rested her hands on her hips. "Off topic!" Taking a step closer to her, hazel eyes locked onto brown. "Why so secretive? I understand Santana has her reputation to look after, but there's definitely a bigger reason why."

A thought crossed her mind, making the blonde chuckle lowly. "If I had known any better, I would think the two of you are hooking up." She turned her head away from Rachel, looking down the hallway to make sure the two jocks were still there.

Rachel may have been having problems acting and keeping her cool around Santana these days, but this was Quinn. And, while Quinn still intimidated her, this was bigger than just herself. She had her fathers and Santana to think about.

So when Quinn laid down her accusation, despite her heart skipping a beat, Rachel kept her composure.

Her eyes went wide, then narrowed. "Are you _insane_?" she asked, tone completely scandalized. "Even ignoring the fact that both Santana and myself are straight, which for the record is rather _important _considering what you are accusing us of, why, in the name of the beautiful and perfect Barbra Streisand, would I _ever _be physically intimate with- with _Santana_?"

Hands on her hips as well, body and face dripping with indignation, Rachel kept going. "As if I would ever even consider getting that close and open to one of my greatest tormentors! Also, she hates me. And while I am not one to use such a strong word as hate, I can safely say that my feelings for Santana are at the very least loathsome. Just the other day she made me drop by books and called me 'Manhands'."

That was true, sort of. Actually Santana had bumped into her on accident and her books fell, and as a cover Santana had yelled at her.

"If _I _didn't know any better, I'd say you're getting desperate, Quinn. You're finally starting to realize my inevitable rise to fame on the Broadway stage and you're jealous," spoke the smaller girl, raising her brow, almost in _challenge_.

Because Rachel knew Quinn, and if there was one way to guarantee making her lose track of something, even for a moment, it was to challenge her.

On the inside, she was shaking.

But she _had _to do it. She had to. Quinn couldn't find out what was really happening. No one could.

Quinn tilted her head back with a laugh. "Quite frankly, I don't think the words_Santana_ and _straight_ can go in the same sentence." She straightened her posture, her arms crossed at her chest. "I've been…friends with her and Brittany for a while. You don't think I haven't noticed the way those two act around each other?" She hesitated calling Santana her friend, knowing the both of them were far from it at the moment.

Though she wasn't opposed to the thought of the two of them, it was annoying to feel like a third wheel around Santana and Brittany most of the time - well, not recently, of course. It had been a while since she's been with the both of them at the same time; in fact, she can't remember the last time she's only seen the two of them together.

Then she paused, wondering why Rachel had to argue on this subject. "Why do you have to defend yourself on this, Berry? I haven't exactly doubted your sexuality."

She scoffed at her story, doubting every part of it. "And how do I know it's not just some lame cover-up for your relationship? I _know_ that besides singing, you thrive to act. Why pass up the opportunity to practice, hm?"

Not even for second had she finished that question that Rachel spoke again, her words forcing Quinn to freeze in her spot.

_How _dare_ she?!_

Her arms dropped to her sides; cold, hazel eyes glared straight through dark brown. "You think I'm _jealous_ of you?" She scowled, walking forward, pushing her back right onto the lockers. "Listen here, RuPaul, I don't care for your_stupid_, little Broadway shows."

She looked down the hall and caught the jocks' eyes, narrowing her eyes at them as she silently signaled them over before turning her attention back to the brunette before her.

"If it wasn't already obvious, I don't like you. No - you don't get to take Finn from me and humiliate me. Things were fine right before you stepped into the picture." So she still held a grudge for that. "Miss Rachel Berry just can't seem to stay away, can she?" She retorted, trapping the girl between herself and the lockers as she planted her hands on the lockers of either side of her, leaning dangerously close to her.

"I'll admit, I know you'll have your future made on Broadway, but look at where you are _now, _Rachel. You're still in high school, and you need to learn where it is you stand here."

Distancing herself from her just in time, she watched as Azimio and Rick approached her, their arms drawing back before throwing ice, cold liquid onto her.

Rachel's heart jumped, fear coiling in her stomach as her back hit the lockers hard, and she winced. She forced herself to meet Quinn's eyes, jaw tight even as it felt like her heart was hammering out of her chest. She didn't speak as Quinn rounded on her, not trusting her voice as she pressed herself to the lockers, hating that the co-captain of the Cheerio's could still intimidate her like this, especially when the blonde trapped her in her arms like she was doing now.

She didn't see the jocks coming until it was too late, and had less than a second to slam her eyes shut and tense herself as the cold, knife-like chill slammed into her face and chest, knocking the wind right out of her.

She hadn't been slushied in over a week, and not multiples at once in longer. And these weren't even the normal sized ones that she got hit with. They were extra large, and she was covered.

Shivering, eyes stinging terribly and ice running down her back and chest, it took a moment for the shock to wear off and the laughter of the kids in the hall to register in her ears. Swallowing thickly, hands clenched tightly at her sides, Rachel took a deep, shaky breath before she wiped as much of the slushie as she could from her face, and, without a word nor even a glance Quinn's way, went straight back to her locker, ignoring the jeering aimed at her and the cheers aimed at Quinn.

She grabbed her slushie kit, and headed as fast as she could to the nearest girl's bathroom, right as the warning bell rang.

What. The Fuck. What the fuck, what the fuck, WHAT THE FUCK HAD SHE JUST SEEN?!

It was mid week, a few days after the most recent breakdown between her and Rachel, and Santana had dealt with the new level of soul baring between them like usual- talking to and texting Rachel in private while maintaining a carefully disdainful disinterest in public. But there was no more denying to herself, or to Rachel either, that she cared for the other girl.

So in school she didn't insult her nearly as much as she used to, and she kept a subtle eye out for her, watching to head off the worst of any teasing she might get. She knew that Quinn was still out there, eagle-eyed and eager to catch either of them in something incriminating together, and she had to be extra careful because of it.

When she first started down the hallway and saw Rachel standing near Quinn, holding her ground even as Quinn cornered her in a clearly threatening manner, Santana had stiffened, her steps slowing, as she fought between her instinct to turn and walk away and her new desire to go to Rachel's aid. But Quinn had made the decision easy when she signaled for the boys to come forward with the slushies.

Before Santana could get there fast enough, before she could even shout, they had thrown them- multiple, ice filled, and extra large. She watched with equal parts horror and rage as Rachel's face registered her shock, and her ears burned as the laughter of other kids seemed to reverberate off the walls. Quinn was smiling, pleased with herself, and for the first time Santana felt, looking at Rachel's efforts to walk away with dignity, not just sorry for having been that exact same person before, but enraged. Not just with Quinn and the boys, but with herself.

What the hell had been wrong with her, that she could make Rachel look like that, feel like that? How could she have been as awful towards her as Quinn and enjoyed it?

As Rachel began to move towards the bathroom, Santana didn't waste any time flying forward towards the boys and Quinn, screw the warning bell. With an angry noise in her throat sounding, nearly a snarl, she shoved both of them in the chest, one palm on each, thrusting them against the wall, her adrenalized fury giving her strength against their much larger frames that she normally wouldn't have. One after the other, she kneed them both between the legs and took vicious satisfaction in their outcries of pain, shouting several curses in Spanish before adding in English, "I TOLD YOU NO MORE FUCKING SLUSHIES, YOU DICKLESS LITTLE TOESUCKERS!"

Releasing them, she turned on Quinn then and took one of the Slushie cups off the floor, scooping up some of the spilled ice and throwing it in her face. Facing her, cheeks flaming, she spat back at her, "I know you're a jealous little bitch, Quinn, but I didn't know you were a coward too."

Turning on her heels, she headed towards the girls' bathroom Rachel had disappeared into, ignoring the final bell for class.

Still shivering, Rachel stripped of her sweater, letting the heavy, soaked material hit the tiled countertop with a heavy thump. Left only in a stained, pink tank top, she couldn't stop shaking from how cold she was, even as she turned on the hot water and began the tedious job of washing her hair out before the slushie could set too much.

Her skin would probably be stained for the rest of the day, she thought, and her tank top was ruined. Maybe, _maybe _she could salvage the sweater, but most likely it would have end up in the trash, as so many of her clothes did.

Rachel tried focusing on the hot water, and getting cleaned up, as opposed to how loud the laughter had been, and how cold she had felt, inside and out. Had Santana been there? Had she seen? She hadn't noticed, honestly, anyone but Quinn. It was hard to pay attention to what was going on around her, after all, when the Cheerio was pinning her to a locker and testing every acting skill Rachel had ever gained.

Of course, that had been why she was here now, freezing and covered in red dye. She hadn't even noticed the two jocks just down the hall.

Because of course Quinn wouldn't just corner her to talk. She'd have to make an example of Rachel; show everyone that defying her had consequences. Cold consequences.

Quinn stood back in amusement, watching as the slushies drip down from Rachel's figure. Once the brunette headed straight for the bathroom, the blonde caught another pair of eyes. They were filled with anger, the only ones that could make the smile drop from her face and grimace, afraid of what would happen next.

But she wouldn't show that.

She stood her ground as she watched Santana attack the two boys, jumping slightly as she yelled. Her body froze when the attention was back to her, her jaw clenching as her eyes followed her movement.

She shut her eyes at the last second, a small gasp leaving her lips as the ice hit her skin. Quinn raised her hands to her face, wiping as much slushie she could from her face. This was going to be a bitch to get out.

"A bit hypocritical for you to be calling me a coward, isn't it?"

As she wiped at her eyes, Quinn turned around to face her co-captain. She squinted, her eyes burning from the liquid that had been thrown at her. She ignored it because now it all made sense to her.

"I get it now - the sneaking around, how you just stood up to her right now, all the denial…" She trailed off, looking down at her uniform and frowning at the stains. "You two are hooking up." Quinn raised her head, hazel eyes landing back on Santana. "And it's because you can't get Brittany that you settle for her, am I right?"

She licked her lips, tasting the cherry-flavored beverage on her tongue. "What I can't figure out is why you're hiding… Is it because you don't want to be seen with Berry, or is it that you don't want the school knowing that you're _gay_?" She questioned; her tone wasn't bitter, but it wasn't exactly friendly either.

Santana stopped moving. Standing just outside the bathroom door, she felt her legs go numb, incapable of moving forward another step as Quinn called after her, knowing that every other person in the hallway was listening with rapt attention. Believing every word. Eager for her reaction, to see the truth of what Quinn had said, clear and obvious in her eyes.

She couldn't turn to face Quinn. She couldn't let her or anyone else see her face, the color draining out of it, her lips quivering with her effort to keep them pressed into a firm, thin line. She couldn't let them see the way her hands were shaking at her sides, how her breathing had suddenly become difficult to control and her stomach had dropped to her toes. She couldn't let them see the heat rising in the form of tears behind her eyes.

But she had to say SOMETHING. The longer she stood there, boring holes into the bathroom door with her eyes, the more convinced they would be that Quinn was right. Quinn would walk towards her, maybe grab her and make her turn. Quinn would make it worse…but how much worse could it be?

She couldn't turn around.

She tried to say something. To call Quinn a liar or at least raise a finger to flip her off. To say ANYTHING. But Santana's mouth wouldn't form words, and instead she reached out and shoved the bathroom door open, stumbling through it and slamming it behind her. She didn't even look towards Rachel, standing shivering in the mirror; she hardly saw her or remembered her. Instead she almost ran towards the first stall, and letting the door swing shut behind her, fell onto her knees just in time to vomit into the toilet. Her stomach is still churning as she tries to catch her breath, her hair hanging in her face, and the irony of this is that she's been doing better with the stupid eating shit and this wasn't intentional at all. Her breathing overly loud even to her own ears, Santana remained on the ground, Quinn's words echoing through her mind on repeat.

Gay…gay…gay…

Everyone would know now. Everyone would know and believe. Everyone.


	17. Chapter 17

Rachel whipped around, eyes wide as the doors slammed open. She watched with rapt attention, anxiety slamming into her, as Santana went straight to the stall, and retched into the toilet.

Heart rate out of control, shaking from the cold and the sudden panic, Rachel rushed over to the stall, opening the door, but freezing a foot away from the girl on her knees. She didn't know what to do. What had happened? Why was- "S-santana?" she asked, voice trembling, and not just from the ice still running down her back. "Wh-what's going on? What- why are you-?"

She couldn't keep the fear out of voice, or the panic either, her eyes wild. Why was Santana throwing up? Was it because of her? Did she see what Quinn did? Hear what she said?

"I- Was- I didn't tell her anything- I- I swear. Santana please tell me what happened. What's going on? Pl-please." She felt like she was seconds away from her own panic attack at this point, and she grabbed the side of the stall to steady herself.

Santana heard Rachel behind her, her voice panicky and louder than it needed to be, and she could sense her coming towards her, standing in the stall doorway. Rachel was asking what was going on, wanting to know what was wrong, but Santana didn't have the words to tell her. The only words she could think of were Quinn's, running on repeat through her head, seeming to get louder and more aggressive with every passing rerun.

Less than a minute ago she had been hot all over with her anger, but now she is shivering, her teeth chattering, as though she is the one who has been slushied. No doubt slushies would soon be a frequent future occurence for her, so she might as well get used to this now. As her insides twist and lurch inside her again, she leans over the bowl, but ends up dry heaving, not bringing anything up. When she finally eases back down, she doesn't turn her head towards Rachel, her voice cracked, dry, and not recognizable to her ears as her own as she finally answers.

"She told everyone."

Rachel stared at Santana, trying to process what the girl had said.

Told everyone? Told what? How? Just now?

"What- What did-" Then it hit her.

Quinn hadn't been convinced at all when Rachel had insisted that Santana was straight. Could she have- Did she-

Did she _out _Santana?

Slowly sinking down next to the girl, Rachel didn't even think about it before she pulled the girl into a tight hug. "I'll- I'll fix this. I will. I'll do something. I'll make her angry at me. I'll- It's going to be okay. _It will_." She didn't know how, of course. Because it wasn't in her control, but she'd do_something_.

She just _had to_.

"I'll talk to my dads. If anyone tries anything against you, we'll sue them for hate crimes. Something. Just- I'm _so sorry, Santana_," she choked out, tears welling up in her eyes.

What was going to happen now?

And how was Rachel going to fix this?

Santana didn't respond at first to Rachel's attempts to comfort and reassure her. She didn't hug Rachel back or lean into her touch, instead keeping herself rigid and apart from her, as much as was possible without actually pulling away. She did not cry, her eyes too hot and dry to manage tears. It took enormous effort for her to simply gain enough control of her body to shake her head, to continue to struggle to bring forth words.

"I can't…I can't believe this."

Quinn was loving every second of this. Santana had handed this moment to her on a silver platter, there for the taking for having reacted to Quinn like she had. For having reacted to what she did to Rachel like she had. It was what Quinn had wanted and hoped for, and Santana had obliged her more than she probably expected.

Still unresponsive to Rachel's touch, she doesn't bother to reply to her telling her she'll fix things. She knew already none of this could be fixed, it was beyond anything she could even imagine being able to be repaired. Short of turning back time, there was no stopping a rumor this huge, once it was out.

Santana Lopez, head cheerleader and known promiscuous partier…gay. In love with her best friend, and screwing Rachel Berry. No one would be able to leave that untouched, all the more so because, thanks to her own mouth and actions over the years, they all hated her.

Her life was over. And if the school knew by the end of the period, then their families would know by the end of the day. And then her parents would find out. What if her papi heard a patient say it? What if her mami got the news from a neighbor? Or worse, what if Quinn came by, playing the part of concerned friend, and told her abuela herself?

Santana's shivering intensified at the thought. No matter what happened, she was screwed. Quinn would make sure of that.

Swallowing hard, still holding Santana tightly, Rachel's mind raced with anyway she could do something. Anything at all.

But she was coming up with nothing.

"Please say something," she begged. Even Santana snapping at her would be okay right now. Or pushing her away. Something to break the girl from this catatonic state. "Please, Santana." She leaned back a bit, shaking the girl by the shoulders a little, and moving the hair away from her face carefully, biting her lip with worry.

She wanted to tell Santana that it would be okay. That Rachel would protect her. But she didn't know how to say it, and with the way the Latina was shaking, staring blankly in front of her, she was too worried to say many words at all.

Rachel is holding her shoulders tightly enough that it sort of hurts, but Santana barely registers this. She hears Rachel asking her to say something, even shaking her, but no words of her own are coming to her mind, at least not ones she is capable of putting out as speech.

All she can think of is Quinn's smug face as she cut to the core of her, of the dozens of kids in the hall who had overheard. She can still hear Quinn's exact tone as she calls her gay, in front of everyone, and she knows that her assured tone and Santana's own lack of response was more than convincing enough.

She could get kicked off the cheerleading squad for this. Brittany will know. Brittany will know and then what? She's already cuddling guys in Santana's absence, she would turn towards them all the way now. Santana's teachers. Santana's ex-boyfriends and bed buddies would think this was hilarious, they were going to absolutely torture her. Her mom would cry, her dad would be confused and maybe angry, and her abuela, Santana didn't even want to imagine in her thoughts how she would react. Her life had just imploded on her in one moment, and so when she finally obliged Rachel by speaking, still barely above a whisper, this was all that she gave the other girl.

"I…I hate my life."

She hates herself too, as much as she hates Quinn. More. But her previous statement seems to cover it all.

Rachel's heart squeezed tightly as those words left Santana's mouth, and with a shuddering breath she pulled herself together, blinking away her tears. Gently, she brought one of Santana's hands up to her lips, kissing the knuckles. "Please don't say that… You have far too much ahead of you to hate life now…."

Slowly, but persistently, she stood them both up, maneuvering them to the sinks and, when she was sure Santana would stay in place and be able to stand on her own feet, she took some paper towel, dampened it with cool water, and carefully began wiping away the sweat that had collected on the Latina's face due to the exertion of throwing up. Then, voice as calm and sure as she could make it, for Santana's sake, Rachel told her, "I'm going to

She set the towel down, and gently did the best she could with fixing Santana's hair. "I'll jump in front of every slushie they throw, if I have to. But I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, or jeer at you, for being who you are." Her fathers had gone through it, and she went through it every day.

Rachel wouldn't let them do it to Santana, too.

"And… While there's nothing I can do about your family, just know that you aren't alone, okay?" She sighed, taking the towel back in her hand to clean the cheerleader's lips and chin from the residue of the vomit.

"If… the worst happens, my fathers will welcome you into our house for as long as you need a place to stay. And you don't have to tell anyone. And- And you'll have Brittany, as well." Rachel bit her lip. "Maybe… Maybe not in the way you would like, but I know Brittany cares for you a great deal, and she won't abandon you. And neither will I."

Of course, she still had to worry about herself, to an extent. If Quinn had mentioned her at all in relation to Santana being gay, the populace would jump on that even faster.

After all, what was better than the resident loser and daughter of the only gay couple in Lima being a lesbian, too? She wasn't a lesbian, but people wouldn't care. They'd be calling her dyke and carpet muncher soon enough, right along with devil spawn and RuPaul.

But right now? She needed to focus on the girl in front of her.

Rachel's skin had gotten pretty thick over the years about this sort of thing. At least when it came to dealing with it in public. Santana had just had her entire world turned on its head.

"It may not seem like it now, Santana. But it's going to be okay, and you're going to be safe. I promise."

Santana remained silent while Rachel went about fixing her appearance for her, washing her face, smoothing down her hair, trying to make her look presentable on the outside, even as she remained a jagged, broken mass of pieces on the inside. The other girl was being gentle with her, trying so hard to reassure, but all of it skirted past Santana as little more than noise. She stared at their reflection in the mirror, seeing the hollow look in her eyes, the anxiety and protective concern in Rachel's, but somehow neither of them quite look real to her.

Rachel was offering to take care of her, to protect her. Her life had spiraled down so far now that she had been offered the services of RACHEL to protect HER. She, the biggest bitch with the most vicious mouth in the school, maybe in the county or state, had just been offered to be protected from the words and cruelties of others by RACHEL.

This was what Rachel went through every day, every day for as far back as Santana could remember. How she had managed to get by for so long with so little support and still hold her head high seemed miraculous to Santana in this moment. Santana was barely surviving two minutes, and that was with Rachel there already backing her up. The girl was stronger than Santana had been capable of seeing or understanding.

It was hard to focus on anyone but herself right now, but the words needed to be said. It seemed important that they be said, in the moment that she understood in full.

"Sorry."

It was all she could manage then, and it was probable that Rachel would think she was apologizing for her current behavior rather than her past. But Santana didn't have the capability then of further clarifying

Unsure of what Santana was aplogizing for, but knowing her answer would be the same no matter what, Rachel replied with a soft, "I forgive you," before wrapping her arms around Santana's shoulders for a brief hug.

She pulled away, though kept the physical connection, and made a decision. "If you'd like, we can leave for the rest of the day. School is half over, anyway, and… And maybe you'd like a head start on… on getting a hold of your parents, before the rumor mill can get to them?" Stepping away completely now, Rachel picked up her now dried and sticky sweater, and grimaced.

It was chilly outside. She didn't really have a choice… She hadn't been bringing extra clothing since Santana had stopped the slushies…

Wincing the whole time, she carefully put the sweater back on, hating how it stuck to her skin, and smelled so strongly of cherry.

She hated cherry…

Then Rachel returned her focus to Santana. "Or we can just go back to mine, and ignore the world for awhile. We can watch a scary movie, and I can order delivery from Breadstix." Taking Santana's hand, she squeezed it. "Just… Just tell me what you need, right now. Be it… Be it finding Brittany, or skipping school with you, or just leaving you alone for awhile. I'll do it, okay? I'll do anything you need."

You know something was seriously wrong if Rachel Berry was willing to skip school.

The thought wasn't enough to make Santana smile- nothing was, right now- but she did feel herself relax just a tad, enough to begin to spontaneously move and respond, at any rate. Shrugging, she slowly laced her fingers through Rachel's, already thinking how others were going to see her, if they were still in the hall, walking out the front door of the school with her hand in hers. Someone might stop them, even a teacher, and before five minutes were up they might be called out as 'teenage lesbians' as well as delinquents for skipping. But she couldn't bring herself to care at the moment. She needed this, the physical grounding of Rachel's hand, and she didn't let go.

"Let's go," she mumbled, briefly meeting Rachel's eyes for the first time, and it is she who takes the first steps towards the bathroom door.

Later she would have to talk to Brittany, if Brittany hadn't already heard, and undoubtedly she had. Later she would have to tell her parents and her abuela. But right now, she just wanted to pretend for another hour that things would be okay.

Nodding, holding Santana's hand firmly, Rachel followed the girl out the door. She peered around the corner, making sure that everyone was still in class and there were no lurkers about, then the two made their way out to Santana's car.

"My father has an extensive collection of horror and gore films," she spoke up once they were outside. She stayed close to Santana, but not touching beyond their hands. This was largely due to her sweater more than anything. She honestly couldn't wait to get back to her house and take a hot shower and wash the slushie completely off her body.

Rachel continued speaking, filling the silence, trying to distract Santana from thinking too much about what had occurred. "Anything from Saw to IT, he probably owns it. I can just close my eyes and hide under a blanket or something, if you'd like. And… And if you can, I really would like you to eat something. Or at least have a glass of orange juice." She didn't usually push Santana about the eating thing… But her body was definitely under a lot of duress right now, and she didn't want something terrible to happen.

Like Santana to collapse, or get sick, or any number of awful things that could occur from not having enough nutrients.

Santana let Rachel's words wash over her, nodding absently when it seemed appropriate, as the girl lead her towards her car. Leaning against the window, she let Rachel continue to talk as she sat for a few moments in the driver's seat, gathering herself to be able to drive. Finally she pulled out of the driveway and started towards Rachel's house, still barely speaking in response to her.

When Rachel mentioned wanting her to eat something, she shrugged, highly doubting this was going to be possible. Orange juice, maybe. But even thinking about actually eating food right now genuinely made her feel sick. She kept seeing Quinn's smug face looking at her turned back in her mind, and her stomach would wring itself inside out all over again.

As she pulled into Rachel's driveway, getting out, she is able now to move more fluidly and assuredly than she had before, but she is still very quiet as she walks with her up to the front door.


	18. Chapter 18

Rachel had kept talking the whole way back to her house, and by the time they arrived, she was, as hard as it seemed to believe, running out of things to say.

So when Santana lead the way up to her front door, she was quiet as well, unlocking the door without a word, and closing it behind them, locking it again, once they were both inside. Shifting, now a little awkward, unsure of how exactly to proceed without the Latina giving her any real cues, her next words were a bit tentative. "Um… I'm going to shower quickly. You can stay down here, or wait in my room. Whatever makes you most comfortable."

She'd also have to call her dads and tell them that she had left school, and why she had done it. She knew they wouldn't be angry at her for it. Not for this. But she owed them an explanation before the school got to them first.

Santana nodded again in response to Rachel's explanation and watched her leave for the shower, deciding to make her way to Rachel's room. Lying down on her bed, she curled into a ball, staring at Rachel's wall across from her and listening to her breath ease slowly in and out from her lungs.

The longer she lay there, thinking about telling everyone, about everyone telling everyone without her consent, the closer she began to edge away from her shock and anxiety and more towards anger. How dare Quinn do this to her? How dare she treat her and Rachel both like this, like they were nothing, like they were trash? How dare they take her business and her life out of her hands? And how dare she let her? How dare she, Santana Lopez, let Quinn Fabray get the best of her, hurt and affect her like this? How dare she let her have any control of her feelings and her life?

She wasn't taking this laying down. She would go out there and deny, deny, deny, or else she would go on a counterattack against Quinn. Quinn was nothing but a washed up stretch marked statistic of teen failure, so how the hell did she get off on pointing out Santana for anything?

By the time Rachel was out of the shower Santana was sitting up, her eyes narrowed, the blankness in her expression before replaced with determination. She wouldn't let herself be a target, and she wouldn't let herself act like one either. Nor would she let Rachel take her shots. She was doing this her way, and Quinn would pay.

As Rachel came from the bathroom, hair up in a towel and dressed in pajama pants and a pink tank top, she quickly noted Santana's expression, and approached her somewhat carefully, not completely sure what it meant.

"Santana…?" she asked, voice a bit unsure.

The whole time she had been in the shower, she had been trying to think of the many scenarios that could possibly happen, and how she'd deal with them, or help Santana through them, or do whatever else she needed to do. She had lost track of time, been in the shower for 30 minutes as oppose to the 10 she had planned on, and had honestly expected to come out to a still lifeless Lopez.

Apparently that was not the case, but she couldn't quite figure out what the Latina's look on her face was.

It… didn't look angry… More like… More like Santana had made a decision? Rachel just wished she knew what that decision was, and what it was about.

"Are you… okay?"

Looking up at Rachel, Santana neither nodded nor shrugged, nor responded to her question directly. Instead, she said with quiet ferocity, chin lifted, eyes dark and narrowed, glinting with intent, "I'm getting her back. I'm denying every word and doing whatever it takes to rub her name in the dirt, it's already there so it shouldn't take much effort. I'm going to tape babies crying and play it every time I walk by her. I'm going to slip shit in her drinks to make her puke and tell everyone she's pregnant again. I'm going to tell everyone she has AIDS from a homeless guy…I'm going to put dirty diapers and broken baby dolls in her locker and cream for stretch marks, and they'll be too busy laughing at her to laugh at me. I'll deny it all."

But then she looked at Rachel, and this resolve cracked slightly. Could she really deny Rachel, deny Brittany, when they both had been there for her and meant so much to her? Could she lie and pretend the rest of her life? But then, could she really tell her family and everyone else the truth?

Rachel listened intently to every word, eyes furrowing and frown deepening as Santana went on. She felt her chest get tight, and she bit her lip to keep from speaking.

Still, she couldn't help but feel a little… hurt, at how fervent Santana sounded about this.

But she had to remember that this wasn't about her. Well, it was, sort of. But she needed to focus on Santana. This was about Santana being and feeling safe, not Rachel. If Santana felt endangered, than Rachel needed to support her. Even that meant the Latina denying her, and avoiding her, and more importantly, denying herself.

So Rachel nodded slowly, but when the cheerleader stopped speaking, the words flew from her mouth before she could stop them. "I think you're better than that."

She looked surprised at her words for a second, but kept going, not willing to stop until she had said what she needed to say.

"I think you're better, and stronger than that. I think you deserve to be truly happy, and be comfortable with who you really are. You're gay, Santana. And there is no shame in that. As much as the world will try to tell otherwise, there's nothing wrong with being different. You're a powerful, beautiful woman, and if Lima can't appreciate that, other people will." Rachel straightened her back a little, speaking more earnestly. "You're my friend. Whether you want people to know that, it's true. And if you need to hide, you can hide. If you're not ready, than I'll do whatever I can to help you in hiding and tricking everyone once again. But I don't think you should. I think, inside of you, you're braver and better than that. Better than Quinn. Better than all the others here in Lima. If anyone can be out and proud besides Kurt, it's you. And if people want to mess with that, you can mess with them back until they realize that just because you're gay doesn't mean you've lost your edge. You'll always be the strong, viciously beautiful girl from Lima Heights Adjacent, and you'll punch anyone out who says differently."

Taking a deep breath, Rachel nodded her head, assuring herself more than anything. "You're Santana Lopez. Not Quinn Fabray. But no matter what you do, I'll back you up, whether you want me there or not. And that's a Rachel Berry promise."

With the first sentence Rachel spoke, Santana had flinched, her mouth opening automatically to protest. Better than what, exactly? Her? Better than Quinn? No, she was equally dirty, equally willing to fight rough, and that was exactly what she was willing to do, to get back a measure of the Santana Lopez she was known to be.

Wasn't she?

But Rachel is still talking. Telling her she's strong. That she's beautiful and power. That she, more than anyone, can withstand this and anything else that Quinn or anyone else could throw at her, and walk proud. Telling her that she could be out. That she could be happy.

All of this seemed so contrary to what Santana herself has always felt to be true that it takes some time for her to not just automatically reject it as false. How the hell can she be proud of being gay, when she has spent every day of her life faking rather than feeling pride and confidence over who she is, over every part of her life from her looks to her sexuality to her belief of her worth as a person? How can she not care what others think and STILL be proud when she herself struggles with what to think?

All her life, Santana has struggled not to be different. As a tomboy child, her father had disapproved of her boyish behavior and made the disapproval obvious, her abuela had tried to cure her smart mouth by being verbally harsh with her herself, and her mother had compared her to her cousins, asking why she couldn't be more ladylike, like them. Ironically enough, by middle school Santana had been trying so hard to be the perfect feminine boy crazy straight girl, the one that all the boys wanted and all the girls wanted to be, that she was pretty sure her parents were PROUD of her, or at least their perception of what they thought she was, now. How would it be to lose that pride and acceptance now, possibly, to actually stand up and say that she was different and always had been?

All her life, she had tried so hard, fighting and struggling to be heard, to be wanted, to be the best, to be accepted and admired, to be not just normal but extraordinary. All her life she had fought a war against other people but most of all, against herself, doing everything she could to try to remold and change herself, whatever harsh measures that might take.

What would it be like to stop? To let herself just be, screw the consequences?

The anger has faded entirely from her face now as she considers Rachel's words, tossing them around in her mind. Strong. Beautiful. Powerful. And gay. It always came back to that. But it was true. In the end, how much longer could she fight what was true?

Raising her eyes to Rachel, she said finally, "What are you going to do? For you?"

Shrugging, Rachel replied honestly. "I don't know. Talk to my fathers, continue fighting or Glee Club, and defend you however you need me to." And it was true. She hadn't really thought too much about herself in this situation. The furthest she had gotten was finally coming out to her fathers about being bi (or maybe pan?) sexual, and that was where it stopped. As far as school went, well, it wasn't something she wasn't already used to dealing with.

"I suppose I'll do what I've always done," she continued. "Being an extra set of clothes, hold my head high, and sing louder than ever, just to remind them that I'm meant for bigger and better things than a 9 to 5 job at the Lima Bean for the rest of my life. As are you, Santana." Finally, getting the nerve to move forward, she sat down at the edge of the bed.

"The world is bigger than Lima, Ohio. And no matter what, no matter how famous you become, people will question you, and hate on you, and talk about you. But they don't matter. _You _matter. You and your happiness are the only things that matter. So, whatever makes you happy, that's what I think you should do. If that means asking Brittany out on a date and shoving it in everyones' faces, than do it," Rachel said, words wavering as she spoke those words. "Because what I've found out, is that the thing that Mckinley High hates most, above all else, is when you don't bend to what they want. They can't stand it, knowing that no matter what they do you refuse to change who you are. And for someone like you? The moment you break someone's nose for calling you a dyke? They wouldn't dare mess with you again. Because they'll realize that, gay or not, you're _still_Santana Lopez, HBIC. And you'll break faces and knee balls to probe that point. Pardon my language."

Of course Rachel would continue like always. For Rachel, more harassment was nothing, she was already more than used to it. Rachel would make it new song material, a greater depth of pain to use in when performing, and come out better and more talented than ever.

The girl is giving her about her fifteenth pep talk in two weeks, with as much earnest sincerity as ever, but the thing about hanging out with Rachel Berry lately is that Santana is finding herself actually start to listen to them. To consider actually following what she's saying.

Brittany won't mind her being gay. She might even already know. Santana knows that…it's the part about Brittany not being gay too, or at least not like Santana, that is scary and painful to think about.

It was true that she could intimidate anyone she wanted to, in the school. She had had the power before, she could reclaim it now. How satisfying would that be to watch them screaming and bleeding, when they had wanted to make her be the one to cry?

She almost smiled, thinking about it. But there was still a few things that bothered her.

"I could get kicked out of cheerleading. I could get demoted from captain. Then Quinn would get it…and my family. I don't know what they'll do."

She took in a slow breath, released it. "My abuela is more Catholic than the pope. I had to lie that I was having my appendix taken out when I got a boob job or she would have probably tried to exorcise me. And my papi, I mean, the only reason he even signed for the boob job was because he thought it would make me more popular with boys. What the hell is he gonna say now that say I don't even like boys?"

Actually, the full truth of that particular matter was that, after the boy she had screwed around with earlier that evening had chuckled and made a comment about her breasts being small, than passed out beside her before he could complete sex, Santana had gone home, locked herself in the bathroom, and cried until her parents were alarmed and demanded she let them in. Through the door she had screamed that she hated her body and that no one would ever love her or want her when she was so flat, that she might as well kill herself now and prevent all her future misery. By the time her father forced the door open, he was so shaken he almost immediately agreed to let her get implants, if it would make her stop making threats like that.

But to think about that night, or the circumstances leading up to her enhanced breasts was uncomfortable and embarrassing, so Santana refrained from mentioning. And besides, it was a genuine concern to her, what her father would think in light of this.

"If Sue kicks you off for being gay, it's a hate crime, and my fathers, and perhaps even your own parents, will sue the school for every penny they have. That's your right. Your sexuality has nothing to do with your skill and prowess as a cheerleader," replied Rachel immediately.

She shrugged, sighing a little. "I just want you to be happy, Santana," spoke Rachel, voice small, but sure. "I'm not concerned with HOW that happiness happens… or… or with who. Just as long as it becomes reality." Swallowing thickly, biting her lip, she went on. "As- as long as you're happy, I can be happy. You know? So… So focus on that. Focus on you. And… And I'll always be a friend to help you reach that happiness."

She shrugged. "And… as far as your parents go, as I said, I don't know. But if they love you, they'll accept you, one way or another."

Rachel was really unbelievable. For how many years now had Santana made it her goal in life to make sure that for as long as she was anywhere around her, happiness was one thing Rachel was never going to experience? And yet here she was, bound and determined to do whatever it took to help Santana to be happy. Willing to sacrifice her own feelings to help her get there.

Tears stood in her eyes, but Santana blinked them back, taking in a slow breath and then releasing it. For a few moments she struggled mentally, balancing possibilities, and then she reached out and took both of Rachel's hands in hers, squeezing hard as she met her gaze.

"Rachel…you're kind of amazing."

She took in another breath, let it out. Then she made her decision. "You know how much I hate to say anything that might inflate your already Blimpie sized ego…but you're right. Along with the amazing. I'm Santana Lopez. I'm not taking this shit…any of it. I'm doing this. And people can either get over it or suck it. My family…"

She shrugged, thinning her lips, but then tried for a smile. "Maybe they'll get over it too. If not, I guess…either you or Britt is gonna be seeing a lot more of me."

Heart skipping a beat and a blush tinting her cheeks as Santana took her hands and spoke, Rachel looked down, oddly shy considering she had never been shy about hearing those words before.

It was different hearing them from Santana, about something that wasn't her talents for performance.

Chuckling as Santana went on, then smiling, bright enough for the both them, Rachel couldn't keep herself controlled any longer, and very nearly threw herself at the girl, hugging her tightly around the neck. She meant to say words, of any kind, really, but she had too much emotion; too many feelings about Santana's decision, and the only thing she could get were the words "I'm _so proud of you._"

Because she was. She was so, so terribly proud of Santana for even wanting to take that step- even keeping the idea in her head.

Pulling back, feeling her own tears starting to well up, Rachel took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "It'll be okay. It will be. And just remember, you're not alone, okay? You are never alone. You have a support system; even if you don't believe it, Glee will support you if you let them. I'll support you, my family will support you, and Brittany will certainly support you. And I'll still jump in front of any slushies they try throwing." She furrowed her brow, looking at Santana's Cheerio uniform. "Though, honestly, I highly doubt Sue will kick you off the squad. And she'll probably kill anyone that throws a slushie at one of her Cheerios- just for staining the uniform, if nothing else."

Realizing she was still more or less staring at Santana's chest, she quickly looked back up at the girl's face.

Santana had been half expecting an enthusiastic hug, but the forcefulness behind it was still a little surprising. She laughed, closing her arms around Rachel, blinking back new tears as she rested her chin on Rachel's shoulder. Pulling back, she was smiling genuinely as she teased.

"Whoa, Rach, you're starting to actually not announce hug attacks, very impressive. Also, I thought we said no more crying, so suck it up already."

It was probably true that Sue would have a spaz attack on anyone who stained the uniform. And she had let Kurt be on the squad for a little while, hadn't she? The other girls, Santana could take them.

"I guess…I'll talk to Brittany after school. And then my parents. My abuela might be harder to arrange but…maybe she can wait a while."

"Oh shush you," she replied back, still trying to pull herself together. "I am a naturally emotional person and you've made a very big and courageous step forward." Fanning her face a little and taking a breath, she didn't hesitate to grab Santana's hands and hold them as the girl continued to speak.

Nodding, Rachel spoke in turn. "That sounds good, yes. You have my number if you need to text me for any reason, and if the worst happens come here or go to Brittany's, okay? If I find out you did something as scary and dangerous as sleeping in your car or something I'll be very upset." As if to highlight that, she pouted.

"Also, because I just remembered this, in reference to your no more crying statement, we also discussed that the trick is keeping my mouth busy, which you are not. Therefore, if I cry, it's actually your fault." She was teasing, of course, and didn't mean it as a real invitation. This wasn't really the time, and Santana was certainly going to ask Brittany out or something, now that she had decided to fight for being open about her sexuality.

Rachel would just have to move on. She could do it. Probably. Hopefully.

Eventually.

"Yeah, yeah, well, don't make a speech over it," Santana rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling, and honestly not minding the speech at all. The more Rachel talked the more it helped seal her decision, and she didn't pull her hands away.

She rolled her eyes again when Rachel told her not to sleep in her car- like she'd ever do that. "I don't especially enjoy waking up with sewer mouth and bedhead in the same clothes I wore yesterday and a killer backache, don't worry, I'm not turning into a homeless bum. I'd rather be a sad mooch than that."

Her smile grew more mischeivous as Rachel teased about keeping her mouth busy, and she shifted closer, one finger tracing her lips. "Yeah? Am I failing you now?"

Face turning red instantly and heart having completely given up on beating at a normal, controlled pace, Rachel's eyes went wide as her jaw hung loose.

It was probably embarrassing how quickly and easily Santana could effect her with such a simple touch. And that _smile, _with that- that little glint in her eye. It just _did _things to Rachel. Made her feel more hot and bothered than she had any right to be.

"Um- I-" Swallowing, then clearing her throat, Rachel attempted to look casual and composed. "I'd give you a C+ at best, I suppose."

She wasn't sure what Santana was doing, or why, but she was so far beyond questioning it that it didn't matter.

Santana grinned at Rachel's reaction, enjoying the affect she has on her. Teasing still, she reached to take her jaw and shut it for her, snickering.

"I like the puppet look but…there are more fun ways to manipulate you and your body than that."

Her eyebrows rose at Rachel's comment, and she pulled back, only half playing with her indignant response. "C+? You giving me a challenge, Berry, because you know I'll go for the win."

Rachel had to tighten her jaw and look away, because the words "manipulate your body" kept running through her head, and what she wouldn't give for Santana to do _exactly _that.

Back straight, still refusing to meet the girl's eyes, knowing she'd most likely be struck speechless again, Rachel retorted easily. "I don't know what you mean, Santana. I'm simply being honest pertaining to your current performance in keeping my mouth engaged in other activities, is all."

There was no way to deny that she was challenging Santana now. It was sort of how they had started to mesh, in a way. They'd talk each other up, Rachel testing Santana's limits (in a way), until the cheerleader broke and proved exactly just how skilled she was.

Even the night that Santana had stayed over she had made Rachel climax several times, and not once did the girl have to touch her core directly, always staying over her panties. By the time Rachel had passed out, she had been a pile of blissful, useless and twitching muscles, and she was pretty sure she recalled the smug, utterly satisfied smirk of a smile on Santana's lips right before she fell asleep.

Thinking back to that wasn't helping her control at all, and she crossed her legs, squeezing her thighs together.

Santana's eyes slowly slid down Rachel's form, not failing to notice her crossing her legs, practically an invitation. Scooting closer to her, her hand again moving to trace over her lips, then down her throat and across her collar bone, she leaned in near her face, her lips inches away as she stared at the other girl, straight on.

"I guess I better shape up then, right?"

Her hand stroking over Rachel's shoulder and down her arm, she leaned in, kissing her lips lightly and without tongue at first, then more insistently, stroking her tongue over Rachel's and then lightly flicking it over the roof of her mouth.


	19. Chapter 19

Author notes: Some people may get frustrated with this scene, but know it's one scene in a continued process.

Brittany threw her phone towards the edge of her bed after Santana had texted her. She wasn't really sure what she needed to talk about, but she said it was important. Usually when Santana said "we need to talk" she meant sex, but because of what had happened with them just the night before, she was pretty sure this wasn't going to be sex.

After a moment of sitting there wondering what Santana needed to talk to her about, she got up from the bed and practically ran down the stairs, nearly tripping on her way to the living room. Brittany forced her little sister out of the chair by the window after a small fight over it so she could watch for Santana's car. She turned the chair and put her feet up on the table even though her mom hated it when she did that.

Knowing Santana and her definition of 'important' Brittany really thought about what it could be; typically Santana would say it was important and just complain about how she didn't get to sing a solo in glee club or something along those lines. Maybe she was wrong though and this really was something important and she was just sitting there underestimating the importance of this. Who knew, Santana could be coming over to tell her that she was moving away or dying- those thoughts got Brittany worrying. She was shaking, hoping Santana would get there soon.

It was fifteen minutes after she finished texting before Santana could psyche herself up into actually getting into her car, and by the time she pulled up into Brittany's driveway, she was shaking. She had to sit inside the car for another several minutes, gathering the will to stand and walk inside the house, and all the way up to her front door, doubts, fears, and dread continued to run through her mind.

What if Brittany did get upset with her? How was she going to bring Rachel into this? Was she going to bring Rachel into this? What if Brittany said she didn't love her like that, but just as a friend? What if Santana chickened out the minute she opened her mouth?

By the time she opens the door and walks inside, not bothering to knock, Santana's stomach is flipping rapidly inside her, and she can't even manage a fake smile for Brittany, though she tries. The other girl looks nervous too, sitting waiting for her at the kitchen table with her feet up, and Santana gestures with her hand for Brittany to stand, reaching out a hand to help her up.

"Um, we should go to your room."

As she starts to walk that way, squeezing Brittany's hand tightly, her throat slowly constricts with her continued fear. It was easier to talk about this hypothetically with Rachel than to actually do it.

Brittany nodded her head as she grabbed onto Santana's hand; she's being led up to her room by Santana who seemed to be in a rush to get up to the room. Brittany couldn't stop wondering what this important thing was that Santana needed to talk to her about so badly and why she looked scared.

There were so many possibilities of what Santana was going to say to her and the one that scared her most was the Santana was leaving. What would she do without Santana around? Nothing, that's what.

"You look a little… freaked out, San. Is everything alright?" She asked with a tilt of her head.

The blonde let go of Santana's hand before she plopped back on her bed and watched as Santana sat down too. She'd never seen Santana be this serious before, no smiles, not really talking so Santana's important thing must be extremely important. Brittany kept her eyes locked on Santana, waiting for her to say something- Brittany needed to know what was up.

This was it. No turning back now…from now on, everything would be different. Her whole life was going to change, and Santana was terrified.

She looked down at her laps, taking several breaths in, and then raised her eyes to Brittany's, dark blue, worried, and as beautiful to her as every. She licked her lips, her hands twisting in her lap, before she finally spoke, her voice hushed.

"Britt…I…I don't like guys. I never did. I mean…I'm…into girls. But mostly…I'm into you. I…Brittany, I love you."

It was on the tip of her tongue to say something about Rachel, but she swallowed the words back, waiting, her nerves thrumming with anxiety for the blonde's reaction.

Happiness filled Brittany when she said she liked girls because that meant she wasn't leaving and that was a good thing. She was also filled with a sense of proudness, she was glad and relieved that Santana had finally told her and wasn't holding it in any longer.

Of course, being her best friend Brittany kind of knew, but she let it be and waited for Santana to come to her.

A huge smile came across Brittany's face. "I'm glad you told me this, thank you."

She leaned forward so she could place a soft kiss to Santana's cheek before hugging her tightly. And during that hug, it suddenly hit her that Santana had really just told Brittany that she loved her and was into her- she didn't imagine that part. Before she could even stop herself from saying anything…

"I love you too." And that was the truth.

Brittany was smiling. Brittany was smiling, not seeming surprised or unhappy or anything at all but just…just glad. Proud of her, even. Just like Rachel.

No, this was Brittany. She was here with Brittany. She wasn't going to think about Rachel, she wasn't going to think of anything but…this. Just this.

It feels as though a huge weight has lifted off Santana's chest as Brittany kisses, then hugs her, and she relaxes into her arms, burrowing her face into Brittany's neck and hugging her back just as tightly. Her limbs feel loose and lacking muscle as she rocks with her slightly, releasing another sigh into the girl's neck. Brittany is telling her she loves her, and for a moment Santana's heart speeds in its beats as she sucks in an unbelieving breath. But then she calms herself.

"Britt, I mean…that I REALLY love you. You get it?"

Brittany misunderstood her. She thought that Santana meant as a friend, obviously.

She pulls herself back so she can see Santana's face; she smiles again. Of course Santana would have to ask if she got it. The blonde brings her hands up to cup Santana's cheeks, she gets close to Santana and locks eyes with her.

"I know and I really mean it too. I love you."

She brushed her thumb across Santana's cheek once before bringing her hands down to her lap. When she looks at Santana now, there seems to be something different. She wasn't sure if it was the fact that they'd just said that they love each other or what, but the difference was definitely a good thing. Her heart was racing and that was something she usually felt when she was around Santana, but it seemed to be going faster now.

Santana could hardly believe what she had just heard. Brittany, looking her in the eye, holding her face in her hands…and telling her she loved her. Really loved her.

It was everything she had ever wanted and never dared to hope might happen, and Santana's heart swelled with disbelieving joy, almost physically painful to feel. Tears came to her eyes, spilling down her cheeks before she could stop them, but she smiled, reaching out to take Brittany's hands in hers. Squeezing hard, she gave a faint laugh, still smiling through the silent tears even as she wiped her face on her shoulder with a shrug.

"I love you too," she whispered back, before leaning in, hesitantly kissing the blonde's lips, gently, without tongue, at least for now. This was the first time kissing her while officially out to her, the first time kissing her knowing that Brittany loved her too, and somehow, even as brief and sweet as this kiss was, this made it seem the best of all.

888

Text messages:

Rachel: I assume everything went well with Brittany, yes?

Santana: mhm :D

Rachel: So... um... What happened?

Santana: i told her about me and she got this big smile and started touching my cheeks which was kind of weird but it's britt, and then she hugged me and said she loves me too

Santana: and she meant the real way

Santana: not just like best friend loves me

Santana: loves me :D

Rachel: That's- That's really great Santana. I'm very happy for you. You and Brittany have been close for years, after all. And you're both gorgeous together.

Santana: :D

Santana: cant believe it

Santana: i mean we've had sex like six times now or something and we always kissed but

Santana: no offense to britt but she'd kiss a tree and hump a fire hydrant if you talked her up enough

Santana: and somewhere out there im pretty sure puck still has pics for proof

Rachel: Yes, well, she has you now, and you have her.

Santana: yep :)

Santana: thanks Rachel

Santana: you've been pretty awesome

Santana: i never would have said anything if it werent for you

Rachel: I'm glad I could help you, Santana. And I'm- I'm glad you're happy with Brittany.

Rachel: I suppose that will make things much easier for coming out at school, as well.

Santana: maybe

Santana: im gonna talk to my parents tonight

Santana: ill wait until papi's off work

Santana: omg im so happy i almost dont care

Santana: about them i mean

Rachel: K. Well. I'm sure if anything bad happens Brittany will be happy to have you. So um. Good luck, Santana. I wish you only the best.

Rachel: Goodbye and goodnight, Santana.

Santana: wait where you going

Santana: you're going to bed already?

Santana: its early

Santana: little miss sleep deprived :p

Rachel: You'll be busy with your parents and Brittany. There's really no reason for me to stay awake, as I've already finished my homework.

Rachel: My fathers will wake me up for dinner, and I'll just go back to sleep after.

Rachel: I know you're happy and will be safe. That's all I wanted.

Santana: yeah but i thought we could talk or whatever

Santana: alright whatever good night

Santana: (five minutes later as lightbulbs go off) are you pissed at me?

Santana: or upset or something?

Rachel: I'm not angry at you, Santana.

Santana: then you're upset?

Santana: ...did you want to...like, be with me, or something

Rachel: That doesn't really matter now. I told you before, as long as you're happy, I can be happy.

Santana: ...i dont know what to say

Santana: ive always loved her

Santana: what we do, i really like it

Santana: i like being with you by some crazy weird thing and your way more awesome than i would have thought you know

Santana: but i love her

Santana: its confusing bc i like you

Santana: but i love her

Rachel: You don't need to explain it to me, okay? I get it. I do.

Rachel: You've known Brittany all your life, you've loved her one way or another for nearly as long.

Rachel: I was just... Well, I don't know what i was, really. But I knew better than to believe I'd ever really have chance.

Rachel: I'm glad I could help you, and I'm glad you finally got your girl.

Santana: rachel i still want to hang out

Santana: we're still friends

Santana: i dont have a lot of those honestly

Santana: i still want you as one

Rachel: I still... want that, too.

Rachel: I just. I just need some time. Or something.

Rachel: I should go now. I need to practice for the recital friday.

Rachel: I hope things go well with your parents. I truly do.

Santana: oh. uh, ok.

Santana: i guess ill let you go

Santana: look im sorry if i lead you on a little or something

Santana: or a lot

Santana: i meant it all if thats something

Rachel: It's fine Santana. You needed someone while you were having problems with Brittany. I didn't stop you at all, if you'll recall.

Rachel: I've only myself to blame.

Rachel: Goodnight and good luck, Santana.

Santana: it wasnt just that

Santana: i do like you rachel

Santana: i do

Santana: its just...idk

Santana: it wasnt just that

Santana: i do like you rachel

Santana: i do

Santana: its just...idk

Rachel: [turns her phone off]

Santana: Rachel?

Santana: You there?

Santana: (ten minutes later) Okayyyy then, be like that. Later.


	20. Chapter 20

It was close to eleven by the time Santana's father finally returned home from his shift at the hospital. Santana's mother, Maribel, had told her that he was supposed to be off around eight, but Santana knew from repeated experience that Dr. Lopez rarely got off when he was supposed to. Some crisis always came up that needed more of his time and attention, leaving him with close to none left for his wife or daughter by the time he finally got home. She had hoped that tonight wouldn't be one of those nights, but clearly it was.

The longer she waited up for him, the more nervous Santana grew. Her abuela had noticed her edginess, looking at her with her all-too-observant eyes narrowed through most of the day as she asked Santana with suspicion, on at least three occasions, whether she was pregnant, plotting something stupid, or using speed, because otherwise she had no reason to be constantly moving around so much and not looking her in the eye like a decent young woman should. The irony to Santana was that the longer she waited for her father to come home, the more convinced she became that to her abuela, all three of the above possibilities she had thrown at her not only were more plausible than the truth, they might also be preferable.

Her mother had seemed concerned as well, stopping and looking at Santana closely once and cupping her cheek as she asked her if she was feeling well. Santana had almost broke early then, blurting out right there while standing near the kitchen sink everything she had been repeatedly going over how to say in her mind, but she had pulled herself together and managed to nod her head and force a smile as she lightly batted her mother's hand away from her. She had not missed her abuela's eyes on her from the kitchen table, completely disbelieving, and she had then decided it was a better decision to go to her room until her father came home, lest she give them any further reason for suspicion.

Over and over Santana had played all the possibilities of her parents' reactions in her mind, trying to brace herself for any and everything they could throw at her when she finally told them what was really on her mind. She knew she had a safety net in Rachel and Brittany, probably even Kurt or Puck if it really came down to it, though god knows she would be driven insane by the prospect of reaching out to either for that. She was pretty sure she had a decent idea of what to expect.

Her mami was a traditional yet modern Latina mother- a homemaker, spending most of her time keeping up the house, yet actively involved with friends and family, with a passion for shopping. It had been she who taught Santana how to do makeup and influenced some of her fashion preferences, having dragged Santana to shop even when Santana was still a tomboy who cared nothing for her appearance. In Santana's case, she had faked it until she made it, and now shopping with her mother- although she generally made her travel to towns far enough that people wouldn't see that she was actually hanging out with her MOM- was one of the few ways they really spent any time together anymore, on an average of one day every month or so. This wasn't Santana's mother's fault though, Santana supposed, as much as much as her own. She had begun to pull away from her mother by the time she was in fifth grade or so, embarrassed by her accent and the fact that she was, well, her mother, when Santana, of course, was supposed to be independent, popular, and cool. Being home instead of with friends or out cheerleading or with guys just wasn't something that fit in with that, and so over the years, she had drifted from her mother considerably, until she felt now that she no longer really knew her, and her mother no longer knew her.

It was a different situation from her father. Her father had never been around much from the start. Santana could understand that, of course- being a doctor, he was obviously busy, stressed out, and distracted- and she could appreciate the fact that his being a doctor basically provided her with everything material she wanted or needed. But the problem of it was that what little time she had with him, he was distracted, stressed, and easily irritable, wanting things to run smoothly and without stress for him. A traditionalist and a patriarch, Santana's father expected his wife to run the household and his daughter to be typically feminine and causing him no stress or problems- it was his mother, Alma, who had, having raised Santana on insults, harsh truths, and emphasis to defend herself with aggression, regardless of whether physically or verbally, who had toughened her up fast from becoming the passive girl her son-in-law seemed to expect out of Santana.

Santana's father had been irritated and bothered by Santana's tomboy behavior as a child, to the point that Santana felt he didn't like or accept her unless she tried to change herself. She didn't like to overanalyze, but it had occurred to her before that this was where it may have started, her warring desires to be the tough, uncaring bitch her abuela seemed to expect her to become, and the feminine, popular princess that her father wanted. For as long as she could remember she had desired and fought for both their approval and attention, and it was their reactions to her news more than her mother's that she was really worried about.

Santana knew that her father loved her, as distant and uninterested in her as he often seemed. It was his way to ask questions without really listening for any answer other than the one he wanted to hear, to toss her a handful of money and seem to think that this was his duty towards her more than accomplished. She could count on one hand how many times she recalled him hugging or even touching her in the last five years.

But she knew, still, that he loved her. She had seen the genuine fear in his eyes, that night before he signed the papers for her breast implants, after he broke open the bathroom door and demanded for her to come out and stop crying. She had heard his voice shake slightly when he asked her if she was serious, that she wanted to kill herself over her dissatisfaction of her body, and when Santana defiantly screamed yes, responding in the heat of the moment rather than out of any genuine reflection on the matter, she had seen his face pale in response, the way he had automatically reached backwards for her mother's hand before launching into permission, granted in Spanish, for the implants. She remembered him gripping her hand, as he forced her off the bathtub wall and into the kitchen, his voice lowered into an urgent whisper so as not to awaken her abuela, as he made her promise that if he did this for her, she would never say such a thing again.

She knew he loved her, even if it was never spoken aloud. What she didn't know was whether her parents loved who they thought she was now, a typical daughter they could be proud of, or who she actually was, everything they may never be able to understand.

She had decided, after some thinking it through, that it was best not to tell her abuela at the same time or maybe even the same week that she told her parents. As bad as her parents' reaction could possibly be- and Santana had thought over every possible catastrophe- she was even more concerned about her abuela's, because even more than her parents' acceptance, she wanted that of Alma Lopez. To have her abuela's approval meant so much more, because it was so much harder to earn. To go three for three in one day would be too much, too fast.

So she waited until her abuela was asleep, hearing aids safely out, and prayed her mami wouldn't be going to bed early before her father came home. When Santana finally heard him coming through the door, she was already running on such an adrenaline high from her anticipation she could hardly sit still. She barely let him put down his things from the hospital before she met him head on, taking hold of his arm and already talking too fast even to her own ears.

"Papi, can sit down? I have something to tell you. Mami too."

Dr. Lopez barely glanced her way, in the middle of taking off his coat and frowning with mild annoyance as he found that his daughter was attached to one of its arms. Brushing at her hand for her to remove it, he said with some irritation in his tone, "Can this not wait, Santana? I have just gotten home and if this is not of importance then I would like-"

"It is, Papi," Santana cut him off, shaking her head, and although she did take her hand back to herself, she remained close to him unconsciously, enough so that if he moved, his arm would brush her body. She bit her lip involuntarily, crossing her arms over her chest as her father's eyes shifted towards her, regarding her more closely, assessing. "It is. Can we…I'll go get Mami, and we can sit down?"

It was asked like a question, and after a few moments Dr. Lopez nodded stiffly, as though to give consent. Though Santana turned quickly, leaving the room to get her mother, she saw the faintly mystified look on her father's face, the first glimmers of concern in his eyes, and her stomach cramped with fresh nerves, her steps quickening in her haste to leave the room.

Already this was so hard, all the possible words she had planned leaving her thoughts. Already she was finding it difficult to keep breathing just thinking of what the next few minutes might bring.

As Santana brought her mother back into the living room, gesturing for her to sit with her father on the couch, she sat at the love seat perpendicular to them, nervously smoothing her hands over her legs. She had changed into pajamas earlier, but it had occurred to her that it would be harder for her parents to take her seriously if she was wearing cotton shorts and a tank top with rainbows on it, courtesy of Brittany, and so she had changed into black jeans and a casually dressy top, the better to look serious and mature. As her parents looked back at her, her father's brow creased heavily, her mother's eyes soft with concern and reflecting a smaller measure of Santana's dread, Santana squeezed her hands on her knees, trying to settle herself by taking in a long, slow breath. She wasn't sure how it was possible to feel too hot and too cold, as if she would vomit or faint and as if she were about to run out the door without control of her legs, all at once, but it seemed that it was indeed.

"Santana, are you all right, mija?" her mother was asking, and she even started to get out of her seat, one hand extended as though to take her hand or cup her cheek. "You look pale. Are you ill?"

"Yes, what is this?" her father asked more abruptly, but his deepened frown also conveyed his worry. Both of them were looking at her, waiting for her, and Santana gritted her teeth, steeling herself, willing herself to get this through with.

She thought about Brittany, about the joyful smile the blonde had given her when she told her she loved her, the sincerity in her voice when she told her that she loved her too. She thought of how it felt for Brittany to hold her, of how young and happy and cherished she made her feel. Like she was back in time again, a child who had all the time in the world just to be, just to play. And then she thought about Rachel, about the pride radiating off the other girl as she told her that she was strong, that she was powerful. That she was beautiful. She thought of Rachel gripping her hands, believing in her so whole-heartedly, Rachel, who never lied, and Santana took another deep breath, sat up straight, and looked her parents in the eye as she spoke.

"Mami…Papi…this might be hard for you to hear, because I've…I've been keeping it from you for a while. I've even been keeping it from myself. All my life I've tried to be someone other than who I am. For you, for my friends, for Abuela, for me…but I just, I can't do it anymore. I can't, and I won't. I want to be real with you, and real with everyone else, and…and I hope that who I really am, that you'll…be okay with her. That you'll be okay with her and proud of her, and…and love her…just as much as you love who I was pretending to be."

"Santana," her mother began softly, but Santana shook her head, stopping her before she could continue.

"Just…please let me finish, okay? Escuchame, por favor…por favor."

She saw her father's mouth open, then close, and though he was leaning slightly forward, still frowning, he did keep silent. Another breath in, and Santana took the plunge, her stomach plummeting with every word.

"Mami…Papi…I don't…I don't like boys. I never did, and I know now I never will. I'm…I'm a lesbian."

She didn't dare take her eyes off of them, afraid that if she did, she would have to get up and flee the room, that she couldn't bring herself to look back again. Santana could feel her skin breaking out in goosebumps with her anxiety as she waited, could hear her heart pulsing too fast, too loudly in her chest.

Her mother was the first to react. Her mouth opening slightly, she blinked several times, her eyes opened wide as she tried to process her daughter's words. Making a faint noise of surprise in her throat, she stuttered, "What? Santana…mija, are you…"

"I'm sure, Mami," Santana whispered, predicting her question before she could ask it. "I'm sure."

"But…why would you think…Santana, sometimes things happen with, with girls, with friends," her mother continued to try to process, her voice soft, attempting to explain, as though she did not think Santana understood. "Girls are close, they like to touch, they are silly, and sometimes there is a kiss or a…it seems romantic. If they have been drinking…that is why, this is why I say, do not drink, Santana, these things may happen and you will be confused. Is this…did something-"

"No, Mami," Santana shook her head, more strongly this time. "I know. I'm not confused, and…it wasn't like that. The boys…I was lying to myself, not just you. I…I like girls, Mami. I love them. I love Brittany. Not like a friend…like a boyfriend."

Rachel's name was on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed this back, because how could she explain that to herself, let alone her parents?

Her father had been silent, the lines of his face deepening with his frown, before he finally spoke, his voice slow, somewhat strained. "You are telling me, Santana, that you do not like men? That you…want to do…romantic things, with girls?"

He sounded as if he had never heard of such a thing in his life and was struggling to comprehend, but he was a doctor, Santana knew that he had. It was just that with his own child, the idea must seem foreign, especially considering his idea of his particular child.

"Yes," she said simply, biting the inside of her cheeks as she watched him, and he cleared his throat, shaking his head slightly as he continued to struggle to understand aloud.

"You have…done those things? No, do not, do not answer that," he said hastily, holding up one hand, as Santana, cheeks slightly flushed, opened her mouth. "I do not want- what I mean is…you are certain that these are…that this will not change, or is not a stage…something to, a game of some kind-"

"Yes, Papi," she directed her words towards his shoulder rather than at his face now, her nails digging marks into her palms. "I'm certain."

"Then…you have gone to prom, and dates, and…your, uh…enhancements…Santana, you said they were for boys, to, to attract-"

"It was…I was trying to be something I'm not," she tried to continue to explain, taking in another breath as she tried to control the continued churning in her stomach. "I'm sorry, Papi, but…I'm telling you the truth now. I'm letting myself know the truth. And this is it."

Her father was silent for several moments, just giving that dark frown, and Santana felt a shiver roll through her spine as she waited, sick to her stomach with dread. When her father finally stated, in a voice that was quiet, almost sad, "You have lied to me," Santana felt tears prick her eyes and fiercely held them back, swallowing hard.

"I lied to myself, Papi," she said just as quietly, now directing this response at her knees. "I'm sorry. But I'm telling you the truth now."

Several more moments passed in silence, and Santana fought the urge to leave the room, feeling as though her skin would burst from the tension building within her. Finally her father looked up at her, meeting her eyes, and spoke again.

"I do not know what to think, Santana. There is…there is some medical conjecture, about testosterone…the levels of exposure when a fetus is in the womb…and you, as a nina, you were always so…that is why the dancing, and…but when you were older, I thought…you seemed to have…"

"This is who I am, Papi," Santana said, when his voice trailed off, and then, steeling her courage to do so, she asked in almost a whisper, "Are you…are you mad? That I'm…"

She couldn't finish the sentence, and the silence that hung between seemed to take forever. She saw her mother's eyes dart between her husband and her daughter, seeming torn between comforting both or neither, and when her father spoke, his words slow, finding themselves one at a time, Santana could breathe again.

"Does this make…the girls, Brittany…do they make you happy, Santana? To…to be with them?"

It was not a question she had expected.

"Yes," she whispered, nodding, licking her lips. "Yes, Papi. It does. They do."

Another few moments of silence as her father appeared to be inwardly wrestling with conflicting thought. But finally his eyes rested on her again, and he said, "Then…no, mija. I am not angry. It is…it is what I want for you. I am not…I do not know, about girls. About daughters. I do not know what to do for you, or…what it is you need. But…it is what a father wants. To make his daughter happy. So if this…if this makes you happy…then I have no reason to be angry."

"He is right, mija…if this is…I do not understand it," Maribel Lopez spoke up finally, one hand going to rest on her husband's shoulder as she addressed her daughter, mirroring her daughter's licking of her lips. "I do not, but…I love you. If you are happy then…then I have nothing to object to."

Santana smiles, slowly at first, then more fully, giving a faint, relieved laugh, before the tears she had been holding back almost from the start of the conversation finally began to fall. Still smiling, the weight around her heart beginning to release its grip, she went to her mother first, bowing her head into her mother's chest as Maribel hugged her, one hand stroking through her hair. With affection that was rare for her to show her mother, Santana kissed both her cheeks, then turned to her father. There was rarely any physical affection between them, but as she stood there, smiling tremulously, and saw her father's attempt to smile at her as well, she moved forward jerkily and put her arms around him in a tight hug, pressing her face into his chest.

"I love you too," she whispered, tears still seeping, and when her father put a light hand between her shoulder blades, Santana thought her heart would burst.

They did love her. They still loved her, they weren't going to yell at her or kick her out or call her names. They loved her, and this gave her hope and strength she could not have imagined feeling just five minutes ago.

"What is this?" an irritated voice behind her asked in Spanish. "Why are you not all in bed? What is the matter with you, Santana?"

As Santana turned to face her grandmother, her cheeks still shining with tears, she was still smiling, almost giddy with her relief. Without a second thought, she blurted, "Abuela, I have something to tell you," even as her mother's face stiffened, and she shook her head at her quickly as her eyes darted between her mother and her daughter.

"Santana-" she started, but Santana ignored her, moving forward to the older woman and taking both her hands into hers. Looking into her abuela's narrowed eyes, squeezing her hands, she tried not to smile, to become more serious in her demeanor, but it was difficult when she felt like singing and dancing with joy.

"I want to tell you something important, Abuela. I told Mami and Papi and now I want to be honest with you too, because I love you, and you're important to me, so-"

"Santana, it is the middle of the night, what is so important that it cannot wait for a respectable hour to talk about?" Alma Lopez interrupted, but Santana continued all the same, squeezing her hands again.

"I'm gay, abuela. I love girls. Like I'm supposed to love men. I always have, but I was lying to myself and to everyone else, and now…I want you to know, because I love you and I want you to see me, all of me, not a lie I'm telling you. So…that's what I want to tell you, Abuela, that I'm gay."

Out the corner of her eye Santana saw her mother's lips thin as she looked down at the ground, briefly closing her eyes, as though bracing herself for something deeply unpleasant. But it was her abuela's eyes that Santana was really watching. The woman's already narrowed eyes slitted until Santana could barely see her pupils, and she drew up her small frame nearly even with Santana's height. With abrupt, harsh gestures she snatched her hands out of Santana's and backed away from her several steps.

Santana's heart dropped, and her mouth went dry as she realized what it was that was about to happen. After the reception from her parents, why hadn't she thought, why hadn't she planned this out a little better? How could she have thought for one second that her abuela might react the same way?

"Abuela-" she started, but her abuela was already cutting her off, her voice nearly a hiss.

"You think that this is something to tell people, Santana? You think you should spread this to others' ears, give them thoughts they should not have? You would lie with a woman like a man, worse than a whore? Even a whore does not do such things, Santana!"

"Alma-" Maribel started, her tone strained, but Alma turned on her daughter-in-law then, including her in her indignation.

"And you, Maribel, you would accept this? You would raise a child who would do such despicable things, an abomination against our Lord, and who would speak about it openly to respectable people, as though it is a thing of which to be proud?"

"Alma, stop this," Maribel said again, but Alma was almost yelling now, one hand pressed against her chest

as her head whipped between her daughter in law and her granddaughter.

"I will not! I will not accept such a thing in my presence, in my own home! You are a failure as a parent, Maribel, and you, Santana, are wicked in God's sight and a shame to this family, to this household. I do not want to see or speak to you again, for as long as you proclaim this….this aberration of yours with pride."

"Abuela," Santana whispered as heat flooded her cheeks, stricken, one hand slowly drifting towards her mouth, but Alma was not finished.

"No! Do not address me, do not even look at me. I am abuela to you no longer, and you are no grandchild of mine."

"Mama, this is our home as well," Dr. Lopez spoke up, his voice firm. "I will not ask my daughter to leave her home."

"Then you are taking her sin onto your head as well," was her response, even as she headed towards the doorway to the hall, throwing the rest of her words over her shoulder. "I will remain in no room in which she is present and I will acknowledge no words she may direct my way. As of now, she exists to me no longer."

The silence in the woman's exit was broken only by Santana's too shallow breaths, loud and visible as she struggled not to simply collapse onto the floor at her parents' feet. As she folded her arms tightly around her stomach, her head bowing, and fought back tears, her parents remained close, seeming at a loss as to how to respond.

"She is of another generation, and she is…you know how your abuela is," her mother said finally, even as she lay a gentle hand on Santana's back. "It is difficult for me to understand, let alone her. It is not something she is able to accept. I am sorry, mija."

"You are not often home as it is, Santana, and you will soon leave for college and be on your own," was her father's offering, his words gruff, even as his face remained troubled in expression, indicating that he meant to be kind. "Perhaps she will come around, and if she does not, then you will soon build life apart from us and it will not matter."

Biting down hard on the inside of her cheeks, Santana nodded, sucking in several breaths, and gradually straightened, shaking her hair back from her face and blinking back the tears in her eyes as she tried to respond to her parents in a composed fashion, like the Santana they thought they knew, the girl who could shrug off any disappointment and simply think ahead to her newest plot to make her loss her victory. She tried to smile, even as the pain in her heart seemed to spread slowly throughout her veins to fill every part of her body with nearly physical grief.

"I know," she said, even as she pulled away from her mother's hand, following her abuela's path out the doorway. "It's…I know. It's okay."

She managed to hold herself together until she had entered her bedroom and securely locked the door behind her. But she didn't even make it to her bed before her legs gave out beneath her, and Santana collapsed in a heap on her bedroom floor, sobbing until she was dry heaving, her body shaking with exertion of her emotion.

Her parents were absolutely right; she knew her grandmother, but she hadn't been able to keep from having hope that her grandmother, like Santana herself, might have hidden depths. She knew that she would soon be leaving, making her way on her own, but that didn't mean that she didn't want and need every bit of support she could manage to obtain before trying.

She had rendered herself a mess of tears, mucus, and saliva, given herself a pounding headache, upset stomach, and raw throat by the time it dawned on her to ask for support from one of the few people she could guarantee would give it to her, no strings attached, no questions asked. But when she fumbled for her cell phone, having to drag herself, crawling, across her floor to get to it in her physically weakened state, it was not Brittany, but rather Rachel, who was the first person who came to mind to call. At the time, this didn't seem significant to her; it just seemed right.


	21. Chapter 21

**Author notes: The flipping back and forth between character povs is because I did not write this entirely on my own. It is co-written by Foxchaos (Rachel) and britt-britt-pierce (Brittany). I write the parts in Santana's view and they write the parts in their characters. I apologize if that makes it confusing but it also means you will get all sides of the story. **

**Phone Call: **

**Santana:** (nothing coherent, just sobbing)

**Rachel:** [picks up phone, half asleep] H-hello? What- Sa- Santana? [sits up right away] Santana? Santana what happened? Are you okay? Are you safe? Do I need to pick you up or?

**Santana:** (still nothing coherent for a while)

**Santana:** She-she hates me. She-she said...she doesn't...I'm not her granddaughter. I can't- she won't- she s-said I'm...I c-can't be in same room...

**Rachel:** Oh... Santana... Oh no... I'm so sorry... What about- I mean, what about your parents? Are they...? Did they at least...?

**Santana:** They said...it's okay...but...they said it doesn't, m-my abuela, that it d-doesn't matter because...because I'm leaving soon anyway. But it does matter...it...I d-don't want her to hate me. (incoherent rest)

**Rachel:** I am so, so sorry... [bites her lip, unsure of how to proceed or what to say]**Rachel:** I... I don't really know how that feels at all. But I'm here for you. And, and maybe this is the wrong thing to say, but someday she'll realize that she's the ones missing out. I know that doesn't mean anything now, but you're going to be okay. Maybe not now, or in a year, but you will be. And you never know, she could come around someday.

**Rachel:** [takes a deep breath] If.. you need to talk to someone who knows more about how that feels, my daddy, Leroy, was disowned by his grandparents as well, and his father. Though his father came around after several years. I'm sure he'd be more than willing to lend you an ear if you needed someone who could relate a little better.

**Santana:** (cries)

**Santana:** (trying to calm down, gulping for breath) It hurts s-so much. She-she said I'm worse than a-a whore. She said...I d-don't exist to her. I...I don't know. Maybe...I don't know

**Rachel:** Just breathe, okay, sweetie? In and out. Just try to focus on that for 're an incredible, strong, beautiful young woman. And you'll survive this, just like you've survived everything up to this point. I have faith in you. I'll always have faith in you

**Santana:** (tries to breathe and stop crying)Can I ...can I come over?

**Rachel:** I- [swallows] Yes. Yes you may. I'll tell my fathers you're coming over. Just so there aren't any surprises or anything. If... if that's alright with you. Or I can sneak you in, I mean. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable.

**Santana:** Okay...

**Rachel:** A-alright then. Are you okay to drive? Should I come get you?

**Santana:** I thought you don't drive...

**Rachel:** I have my temps. I'm sure I could manage a few blocks and two lefts turns to come get you.

**Santana:** Okay...

**Rachel:** Right. Okay. I'll be there in ten. Um. I'll park just down the road and text you. I assume you would rather not have your parents know.

**Santana:** Yeah...okay...

Gently closing the door behind them, Rachel had opted not to wake her fathers about Santana coming over. She'd tell them in the morning, most likely, but for now she was more concerned about the grief-stricken Latina currently sitting on her bed.

Still in her pink and red heart pajamas, Rachel sat herself down slowly at her desk, a little bit too nervous about having Santana back in her room so soon after the girl had so joyously announced that she was going to date Brittany. Which, begged the question, _why was Santana here?_

She'd been rolling that same question over and over in her head since the texting started, and had only just been able to keep it to herself.

Santana needed her, as a _friend_, right now. Simple as that. So… So that's what Rachel would be.

Taking a deep breath, she stood up then, going over to her dresser and taking out a pair of gym shorts that were a little too big for her, as well as a shirt that was the same. They should fit Santana just fine. She turned back to the Latina, setting the clothes down on the bed next to her, and finally managed to speak.

"You can change into those. They'll probably be more comfortable." She swallowed thickly, clearing her throat. "Is um… is there anything else I can get you? A glass of water? A- a hug? Or something?"

Her heart was hammering, and she honestly wanted to burst into tears and scream at the girl at how unfair this was- how much this was hurting her. But she _couldn_'_t._ She had said she'd be Santana's friend, and she desperately wanted Santana in her life.

It just felt… _too soon_. Her heart still felt like it was bleeding, and she knew, the second Santana touched her, she'd probably burst into tears and lose all self control all over again.

Santana feels about ten seconds away from impending death at the moment.

Okay, so maybe that was a slight exaggeration. But she did feel really terrible. Her head was throbbing steadily at her temples, her eyes ached and were swollen from crying, and she was hot all over, finding it difficult to even move. She had managed to pull herself together after getting off the phone with Rachel, but the second the girl had pulled up and let her into her car, she had burst into tears all over again, though she wasn't sure exactly why. Relief to have someone with her, maybe, or simply because she could, because she was with someone it was safe to be with in this state.

She was composed again now, at least as much as was possible currently, but she still felt raw and fragile, as though the slightest thing could set her off again.

Taking the pajamas Rachel offered her, beginning to remove her own clothes slowly, numbly, without taking any notice of whether or not Rachel was watching, Santana changed, then lay down on her bed, curling up with her knees to her chest. When Rachel asked her if she could do anything else for her, she looked up, sniffling, and asked in a voice that was small enough that she barely recognized it, "I guess…can you lay down with me?"

Sucking in breath sharply, snapping her eyes shut and turning away quickly, Rachel was positive she was going to have a heartache at this rate.

She waited until she was positive Santana would be dressed before turning around to answer the girl's question. As she did so, she cursed herself for her choice of pajamas to give her. The shorts weren't too short, but they left a lot of leg, and a little bit of hip. The shirt wasn't much better. Rachel had underestimated how much… space Santana's chest would need, so there was a sliver of stomach showing, even when the Latina was perfectly relaxed.

Shaking those thoughts away, doing her best to focus on what mattered right now. Which was comforting Santana.

She just… really wished that didn't involve what the girl had asked…

Steeling herself, taking every bit of self-control and goodwill she had, Rachel nodded, slowly getting under the covers after clicking off the light. She waited for Santana to follow suit before scooting closer, though didn't cuddle. Instead, she covered Santana's hand with her own, and held it, squeezing it softly. It had… sort of become a thing they did, she realized.

"Is this okay?" she asked, voice quiet.

Santana barely inclined her head in a nod, releasing a slow, audible breath from her space beside Rachel. She squeezed Rachel's hand, entwining their fingers more tightly together, and then dragged Rachel's hand to hold against her own chest, so that Rachel could likely feel her heart still beating a bit too fast against her fingers.

Then she rolled over to face her, still holding Rachel's hand to her chest, and scooted in closer to her, now touching her forehead to Rachel's shoulder, her knees into Rachel's side as she tries to mold in closer to her.

Realizing that Santana would want to be closer, but knowing there was no way she could face the girl, Rachel scooted closer to Santana, then turned her back to her, shifting around a little so that her shoulders were against Santana's chest, head tucked just under her chin. She moved their hands, grasping Santana's left and wrapping it around her waist, interlacing their fingers again and holding it tightly to her chest.

It was a somewhat intimate position, but not nearly as much as having to look in Santana's eyes; Rachel wouldn't be able to keep herself together if she had to do that.

So, this would have to do.

It was still painful, knowing that the only reason they were doing this (that Santana was clinging to her, holding her like this) was because she was hurting herself. But… It was better than nothing. In a way.

Rachel just wished that she could stop thinking about, wondering, if Santana held Brittany like this. If they cuddled, and giggled in the dark, and if hands would travel, and-

Barely biting back a strangled whimper, blinking back tears, Rachel closed her eyes tightly, forcing her breathing to remain steady. "It'll be okay, Santana. You'll see…"

For some time, Santana remained in the position Rachel had adjusted them to, her arms around Rachel from behind, Rachel's back curled into her chest. She held the girl's hands, fighting back further tears, and eventually, her breathing began to even out again, her muscles to relax against Rachel.

Her mind was beginning to empty of all other thought as she held her, leaving her drained and heavy in body. Without thinking any further, simply acting, Santana shifted her positioning so she was a little further down on Rachel's body, burying her face in the back of the girl's neck, pushing her hair aside to make skin to skin contact. A few more moments, and she lightly kissed the nape of Rachel's neck. A few more, and she kissed it again, detaching one of her hands and lightly stroking up Rachel's stomach.

eyond all reason, Rachel had actually begun to fall asleep. She was exhausted enough to, for a little bit, just take comfort in being held by Santana, and her body reveled in soaking up all the extra warmth that came off of the taller girl.

She was relaxed that it took her a moment to realize that was happening, and at first she thought she was just imagining it. But when Santana started stroking her stomach, her entire body froze up completely, and she very nearly leaped out of the bed, breath hitching and eyes going wide. "S-santana..?," she whispered, partly hoping at least one of them was asleep…

Santana couldn't do this to her. She couldn't. It already hurt so much, and to have Santana- and just- No. Just, no.

Besides, she had already sworn that she wouldn't get in the way of Santana's and Brittany's relationship. She had _promised _herself that she wouldn't ruin it.

Santana doesn't respond. Her breath hitches, and she splays her fingers wide over Rachel's abdomen, pressing down lightly as she drags her hand up a few inches, just below her breasts. Lightly nuzzling her nose into the crook of Rachel's shoulder and neck, she pushes her toes into Rachel's ankle as well, slowly using her foot to stroke up her leg.

She isn't going to think about what she's doing or why or who she's doing it with or how the hell she can go from over an hour of crying to…whatever this is. It feels good. It feels good, it makes her stop all thought, and so she continues.

Closing her eyes tightly, taking a deep breath to keep herself from shaking out of her skin it feels, Rachel turns to face Santana, pushing the girl onto her back and straddling her, taking her hands in her own tightly, keeping them there.

For a moment she can only stare at the beautiful, raw girl under her, taking in every incredible detail afforded to her in the glimmers of moonlight shining through her window. Her heart clenches, and thin trails of tears begin sliding down her cheeks. With a slow, stuttered breath, she finally manages to speak.

"You love Brittany, Santana," she whispers, her throat tight as the words leave her lips, but voice firm. "_Not _me… Please, if you value our friendship at all, _please _remember that. You're breaking my heart, and I'm trying so hard to be a good friend for you."

Sniffling, closing her eyes and taking another deep breath to steady her emotions a little. She opens them again, hands still holding Santana's tightly. "I will _always _be here for you. But you _can't _touch me like that anymore. Not when I know you don't want me that way…"

For the first couple of seconds Santana thinks that Rachel is starting to get sexual with her, and this is the reason for her shifting her onto her back, straddling her, even holding her hands. Her body begins to respond accordingly, her mouth opening as if in preparation for a kiss, her skin beginning to flush, and she moves her hips beneath Rachel to accomodate her better, if needed. But Rachel doesn't touch her any further. She's just holding her hands, and when Santana sees her tears, she stops, confused.

"What-" she starts to ask, but Rachel is speaking. Telling her that she loves Brittany. That she doesn't love her. That she is breaking her heart.

Rachel had said something like this earlier, when they were texting. About how she wanted to be with Santana. Santana had felt bad about it, even guilty for having lead her on with her….with whatever kept happening, practically every time she was alone with her. But somehow she had managed to push it all aside from her mind, even to justify it. But now…she was really hurting Rachel, that badly?

But she didn't want to stop. And she didn't want to hurt Rachel. She didn't want to hurt Brittany either, of course. She did love Brittany. She loved her more than she could have words to describe. But…but Rachel. Sometimes…most of the time…when she was alone with her, the way she felt about Rachel…it didn't feel so different than the way she felt about Brittany.

And what the hell did THAT mean?

"Rachel…but I-" she started to say, and then cut herself off, stunned before the words even came. Because she had been about to say she did love Rachel.

Did she? Was it true? When the hell had this happened, and HOW?

She knew she loved Brittany. Knew it like she knew her own name. Then how could she love Rachel too?

Taking a deep breath, releasing it, she bit down on her lower lip, trying to reel herself in, to just respond to Rachel. That's all. Just respond. With words, not hands.

"I…Rachel…I'm sorry. I'm…I'm not trying to hurt you. I…"

Why did the words "love" keep rising to her tongue, damn it?

"I'm sorry."

Nodding, eyes still closed as she works to quell the wave of emotion threatening to overwhelm her, she's unable to speak for a few moments, knowing that if she opens her mouth it will only be a sob.

Finally, shoulders slowly untensing, having tightened as she attempted to hold herself back, she's able to reply, words small and tired. "Forgiven," she says. She finally opens her eyes once again, letting go of Santana's hands in order to wipe the tears from her eyes. "Now. You've had a very hard day. So let's- let's just go to sleep, okay?"

She doesn't say that she's had a hard day as well, or that she's feeling completely exhausted and torn up and like she's just constantly bleeding these days. It's selfish, and it's gotten hard to be selfish with Santana.

Scary, even, as Rachel tries to push back the constant thought reeling in the back of her mind, screaming at her sometimes, that if she messes up, Santana will leave and never look back.

She'd like to think otherwise, but it's hard to be positive about friendships when she's never had one before.

Slowly she gets off of Santana, and biting her tongue hard to focus on pain other than the stab in her chest, she curls into the girl's side, wrapping her arm around her waist and resting her head on Santana's shoulder. She shudders a little, but closes her eyes.

Santana holds herself tautly, expecting Rachel to lie down and keep her body apart from her, not allowing them to touch. But Rachel puts an arm around her, resting her head on her, even, more than she had a right to expect. Santana holds her breath, still expecting her to pull away, or for herself to be overcome with the urge to push boundaries, but then she releases it, letting herself settle against her without trying for more contact. She leans her head down into Rachel's and closes her eyes, focusing on just drawing breath in and out.

Still, as she lies there, before she can sleep, the thoughts occupying her mind are no longer about her abuela and the situation in her own home she's found herself in. They are of Brittany…and of Rachel.

It is beginning to occur to her that it might be just a tad strange that the first person she called for comfort was not Brittany. That the person's bed she was lying in right now, after being completely devastated, was not Brittany. That while being comforted, the first thing she did with NOT BRITTANY was try to touch and kiss her.

That her automatic response to NOT BRITTANY had been to tell her she loved her.

How was she supposed to think or feel about that?


	22. Chapter 22

Coming out to Glee Club hadn't been quite the painful experience that Santana had dreaded. In fact, everyone had been fairly supportive, and yes, Rachel had managed to drum up a group song that hadn't been t_hat_ embarrassing. But the stress of the week had been ongoing, and with her abuela still ignoring her and fleeing the room every time she came anywhere within her sight, Santana felt edgy, needing to let loose. This party of Puck's was a perfect excuse for it...and a great way to make Rachel spend time with her without feeling guilty or like she was crossing lines. Only one problem. Rachel was insisting she wasn't going. No, two problems. Quinn would undoubtedly be there too, and Santana didn't even want to look at her, let alone watch her try to make her life hell or worse, apologize.

A night of dancing, drinking, and forgetting the angst of the past week was exactly what she needed. She'd dance with her girl and anyone else who came near her, and maybe it would be exactly what she needed to get past it all. It would be perfect, if she could just get Rachel to come too. Why it mattered so much to her if Rachel DIDN'T come, well, that wasn't something to worry about. That fell under the category of "forget."

The past week was hell for Quinn. She knew for a fact that Rachel and Santana had been avoiding her, and the blonde decided to ignore the both of them. Of course, though, the guilt had been building up inside of her and it was until she talked to Artie that she had confessed about said guilt. Quinn didn't exactly apologize for everything, but the tension in glee club had to end... And Santana was the only one she could consider her closest friend - despite hating each other here and there. Outing the two girls was not her right to do so, and maybe she could apologize to either of them at Puck's party.

Standing outside Puck's house, Rachel couldn't believe she was doing this. Her recital had gone perfectly wonderful, but she was a little tired, and she had a distinct feeling that being around alcohol and Santana was the worst idea possible. But... well.. As long as Brittany was there, Santana would be distracted, and Rachel could just... distract herself from seeing that. Technically this party was in honor of Santana coming out, which was fine, because Rachel didn't want that kind of attention. The Latina didn't either, she knew, but she was the one throwing the party, so... Sighing, gathering her courage, she finally made her way up the steps, and walked in the door, not bothering to knock. Maybe, as long as she stayed sober, it would be okay.

Santana had driven Brittany to the party, telling her that her texting while driving was "just making sure that Puck had the right kinds of booze," but actually, she was texting Rachel. "

Rachellllll are you coming? You have to come. You're coming, right? Come on, you gotta come, who stays home on a Friday night when there's a Puck party? My party. For me. Support stuff. You like that kind of thing. So you gotta come!"

Rachel looked at her phone, watching as more texts rolled in. With a deep breath, she finally replied to one of them, "Yes, I'm here." and sent it. Nothing more. Then, dodging a couple of Cheerios (of course they would show up) she went to the kitchen. She needed water. Not booze. Just water. Then hopefully she could find some other Gleemates to speak with. And say hello to Santana, and then leave.

But by the time Rachel showed up at the door, Santana had already been there for at least two hours and was already convinced that she was not coming at all. She had spent equal portions of time knocking back shots, hanging on Brittany's neck giggling into her hair, dancing with lots of hands over lots of skin, and texting more and increasingly less coherent messages to Rachel. When she sees Rachel inching in through the crowd, she points at her, still hanging on Brittany, and shouts over the music, "ABOUT TIME BERRY, THE HELL YOU BEEN PARTY AVOIDER!?"

Letting go of Brittany abruptly enough that she almost knocked them both down, she started to weave her way towards the other girl, one hand outstretched and knocking into several people on her way.

Already at the party, Quinn stood with Sam, a red solo cup in her hand with the male blonde's arm around her shoulder. She rolled her eyes at the conversation he was having with Finn and let her eyes travel the room. Her gaze landed at the entrance of the house, spying Rachel at the door. She pursed her lips together, contemplating on whether to go over there and apologize.

"I'll be right back," she shrugged Sam's arm off of her shoulder and placed her cup down, walking towards the brunette. Stopping she saw Santana getting to her first and watched the two closely.

Santana didn't notice Quinn coming from behind them. Actually, she didn't notice pretty much anyone else, including the four people she plowed through to get to Rachel. Still holding an empty shot glass in one hand, spilling a few drops of its contents clinging to its bottom down Rachel's neck as she moved in on her, she flung her arms around her, leaning her full weight into her as she said, still at top volume, "I didn't think you were gonna come, you friggin button pusher!"

Rachel nearly fell over, having frozen in place from simple shock when Santana yelled out to her. Quickly trying to steady herself, wincing at the smell of alcohol permeating from Santana 's breath and skin, she managed a small smile, face flushing from the contact and how Santana's heavy arm forced her to lean down a bit, eyes getting a clear view down the girl's shirt.

"Hello Santana... I see you're having fun?"

"You've always been a genius," Santana declared, but for once, this was not a sarcasm. She made no effort whatsoever to pull away from Rachel, still seemingly oblivious to the rest of the world as she continued to lean into her. "You're a genius, and it's actually kind of hot. I'm not even bullshitting you there, it used to be annoying but now it's just hot...kind of like your little knee socks. Not the sweaters though 'cause those are never gonna be hot unless they're off your body and on the floor..."

Oh goodness. This was exactly what Rachel had been fearing. If possible, her face got more red, the blush traveling slowly down her neck to her chest, and tried to straighten herself up as best she could.

"Um... Thank you, Santana. I think... Anyway, you should probably have some water now. How about I go find Brittany, and she can take care of you, okay? I'm sure she's already missing your company."

Why was she had to keep reminding Santana of this? This girl was going to kill her, if Brittany didn't get to her first... Rachel was positive of it. She moved a bit, trying to dislodge herself from Santana, and spotted Quinn in the corner of her. Without even hesitating she threw the girl a glare that clearly said "HELP ME!".

"Take care of me? I don't need taking care of, I feel great," Santana declared, even as her words slurred slightly and she refused to loosen her hold on Rachel, despite her efforts. "Brit's back there...she's alright. I wanna see you. You gotta come dance with me."

Detaching herself only very slightly, she started to drag Rachel back towards the others, almost knocking straight into Quinn as she turned. Her arm still slung around Rachel, she stopped, eyes narrowing.

"Why are YOU here? You celebrated ruining my life, not my being the next Hispanic and much hotter Ellen Degeneres...get your own girl, Tori Spelling!" It was doubtful Quinn would get the nose job reference.

Quinn blinked, glancing around herself before realizing Rachel was asking for her help. She kept from rolling her eyes and approached the two of them.

"Not to intrude, but I don't think your girlfriend here wants you to leaning on her all night with your alcohol breath."

She pulled Santana off of Rachel, keeping an arm around her waist and bringing her right arm around her own shoulder, ignoring her insults.

"Not girlfriend. Brittany is her girlfriend. We're friends," rushed Rachel, looking around quickly to make sure no one else heard that, but also relieved that Quinn was apparently going to be of assistance.

"She's not my girlfriend, she's just my friend. A really, really good friend I cuddle and feel up sometimes with awesome buttons," Santana rambled, even as she attempted to push Quinn off her, swatting at her hands. "Get off me, MegaphoneMouth, don't touch me! You shouldn't even fucking be here...you're not my friend anymore, Rachel's my friend, not you!"

As she says that, though, her mood shifts, and she starts to get in more emotional mode, not fighting Quinn as much as she twists her head towards Rachel.

"You're such an awesome friend...you're nice to me even though I'm a bitch to you and you let me come over and cuddle you and you don't yell at me too much even when I feel you up and lick your neck...you sing songs and you were gonna jump in front of slushies...no one else would do that for me. You're the best friend ever...and you're hot and I just want to hug you now...why are you moving away?"

She managed to break away from Quinn then and started towards Rachel again, grabbing her arm and trying to pull her in for another hug as tears came into her eyes. "You're so awesome, Rachel...I really love you..."

Quinn arched an eyebrow, a questioning look on her face. She wasn't quite aware Santana and Brittany were together now, although that may have been because she had tried to keep away from all of them the past week.

"Alright," she said simply before turning her attention back to Santana. The blonde grunts once she started to swat her hands at her, though didn't let go. She listened carefully at her words, though immediately regretted it once she continued talking to Rachel. Her distraction made her lose her grip on Santana, her brows raising in surprise.

"I think you're done drinking for the night," she mumbled, shaking her head, hoping Santana wouldn't mess anything up when she had just got together with Brittany.

Rachel squeaked as she was pulled back into Santana, her arms trapped at her sides and face almost pressed into the girl's chest. She was so dead if Brittany saw them. As her heart slammed in her chest the more Santana spoke, she swallowed thickly as the words "I love you" fell from her mouth, biting her lip hard and closing her eyes tightly, trying to dislodge herself without knocking either of them over.

"Santana, that's very kind of you, yes, but you love Brittany. That's why she's your girlfriend. You're very drunk right now and I think you need some water and rest."

She was going to die. Either from Santana's jealous girlfriend or from all the emotions welling up inside her chest and making her throat constrict and chest tight.

"Listen to Quinn. Quinn can be smart, too." she added.

"Right, I do, I love Brittany, but I love you too," Santana insisted, shaking her head and tightening her grip on the other girl. "I love you so much, Rachel...you're smart and pretty and you don't take shit off anyone, you're actually kind of a badass, which is totally wanky because who would think someone in Christmas tree sweaters could be so hardcore...but you totally are. I don't know why you're still a virgin because everyone in town should want you as much as I do...everyone in the STATE. You should never be lonely again, I can tell them for you...no, screw that, then I'd have to share."

Pulling at Rachel's arm, Santana tried to drag her the rest of the way towards the open area where people are dancing, which happens to be directly in view of Brittany. "Come on, come dance already!"

Quinn knew the more Santana spoke in this state, the more she'd confess her feelings about Rachel - with Brittany just a few feet away. Quinn bit her lip and then glanced back at Britt before stepping up, pulling Santana away from Rachel.

"How about you go? You're near drunk and I need to talk to Rachel." She sighed. When she was going to apologize, she didn't imagine it like this. "Go back to your," her eyes shifted to Rachel before lowering her voice, knowing it kind of hurt the diva, "girlfriend and I'll send Rachel back later."

Rachel moved away from Santana as well, and again the mixture of relief and hurt swelled up in her. But she pushed it down, putting her hands up to block any more attempts at Santana getting her to, and spoke quickly.

"I'll join you soon, I promise, really," possibly not but that wasn't the point here. "I just need to see what Quinn would like, okay? Go dance with Brittany, and you'll see me again before you know it."

She took another step back, smiling as sincerely as possible, hoping to convince the Latina to leave for at least a few minutes.

But it was now time for Santana to move into cycle 3 of progressive intoxication- from euphoria and flirtaciousness to sentimentality and sappiness to now outright overly emotional. as Rachel pulled away, asking her to go to Brittany, her eyes filled with tears again, and she staggered back, her voice still too loud considering how many people happened to be around.

"You don't want to hang out with me? I've been texting you all day and you came and then you're gonna go off with QUINN, Quinn RUINED MY FUCKING LIFE and you'd rather go hang out with HER?! My abuela hates me because of her! Her and her huge mouth and I can't ever sit in the same room as my abuela again, I can't ever have Thanksgiving with my whole family or Christmas or anything...I can't even eat dinner with my mami anymore because my abuela cooks and she won't cook for me and my life SUCKS and it's HER fault and you want to go off and be friends with HER, are you gonna go cuddle HER and hold hands with HER and sing songs to HER?"

Now actually crying, she starts to stumble off looking for Brittany in the crowd.

Quinn flinched at her raised voice, lowering her head in guilt as Santana spoke. If there was anyone in her life she feared, it was only Sue and Santana. Had she really caused all of that? She knew she's done some horrible things, but this put everything else to shame. Sure she wouldn't show it at most, but Quinn still cared.

Knowing she'd probably regret this, Rachel set her hand on Quinn's shoulder and spoke, " Can you... distract Brittany for a moment? I... I'll calm Santana down, okay?"

With that she grabbed Santana's hand, throwing an apologetic look towards the other, tall, blonde cheerleader, and forcibly dragged the Latina through the crowd and to the back porch, thankful that no one was present. She was also thankful that her body was a bit stronger than it appeared, otherwise the task wouldn't have been possible. Setting both of her hands on Santana's shoulders, she made her sit on the rocking bench, but remained standing. Then, with a sigh, she wiped the Latina's tears away carefully, kneeling down in front of her.

"Please stop crying. You know that Quinn and I aren't friends. I only cuddle with friends, remember?"

Her breath hitching, sniffling, Santana lowers her head, crying for a few more moments more quietly, but winds down pretty quickly. Lowering her head down against Rachel's shoulder, she tries to hug her again, her breathing hot against her skin as her turns her face into her neck, talking in muffled words against her.

"Don't stop being my friend. I know I suck and not just the sex kind...I still want to do that stuff with you. It was so good. It's like a waste not to. And I love you, I really, really, love you, Rachel. I didn't know you could love two people but I do. I really, really, do...maybe we can share."

Watching Rachel dragging Santana away, Quinn sighed, still biting her lower lip. Eyes scanning the crowd for Brittany, she located her and walked up to her, beginning to talk to her without quite knowing what it was she was saying. All she could feel then was shame. Shame for outing Santana, shame for the slushies to Rachel, for every sneer she had directed towards her in the past two years. Somehow, it had never quite seemed real to her until this moment. When Brittany offered her a cup, she took it without thought, gulping down its contents and feeling the alcohol burn her throat on its way down.

Those two definitely owed her.

Rachel wasn't sure why she wasn't in tears. The more Santana spoke, hot breath hitting her skin and making her shiver in the cool night air, the more she felt like sobbing aloud. Maybe crying herself to sleep most of the week had worn her out. She returned the hug gently, straightening up so Santana wasn't bent over quite so much, and shook her head against the Latina's shoulder.

"Oh Santana...you know none of us like to share..."

Letting out a slow, shaky breath, she pulled away enough to look Santana in the eye, cupping her face in her hands, even as she reminded herself over and over that no matter what, she had sworn she wouldn't be that girl.

"You chose Brittany, Santana," came the soft, firm, but choked words. "You chose her. And that's _okay._ I promise it is. I understand, I _do._ Brittany is everything good in this world. She's beautiful and sweet and you've loved her for a long, long time. And eventually you'll understand that I'm not that special, and I'm very flawed and annoying, and you'll forget all about ever wanting me like you want her."

And the worst part was that Rachel believed, without a doubt, that this was true.

But as Rachel spoke, reminding her that she was with Brittany, that she had chosen her, Santana was shaking her head, reaching up to cover her mouth with shaking hands.

"No...shut up...you are too. You too. Beautiful and...and powerful, and, and amazing, and...just shut up, I do too...I love you BOTH."

And then she leaned in, covering Rachel's lips with hers.

Rachel should have stopped it. She should have halted Santana the moment the girl started to lean in, told Santana no, and put an end to this whole thing. She should have... But she just couldn't. So when Santana leaned in, Rachel let her. And when Santana's lips pressed against hers, Rachel didn't fight it. She allowed Santana to kiss her, softly and firmly and so, so sweetly...

That finally did it, and she began to feel her closed eyes begin to water. She allowed the kiss to go on for several long moments, until she couldn't take it any more and was sure the Cheerio would try to do more. So she leaned away, hands moving back to Santana's shoulders to keep her in place.

"I think you should go to bed now, Santana," she said quietly, blinking back her tears. "Go home with Brittany, and sleep. okay? And..." Another chance to end this. If she could just... "And if you truly want to talk about this, when you're sober, text me, and I promise we'll talk. But Santana... You really, really need to figure out what it is you really want. Because you'll only hurt yourself, Brittany, and myself. So sleep, cuddle with your girlfriend, and think about what it is you truly need."

With that Rachel stood, pecked Santana softly on the forehead, then hurried away. She rushed through the house as quickly as she could, knowing a breakdown was imminent, and barely managed to shoot a quick text in apology to Quinn, and a reminder to Santana to text her in the morning if she wanted to, before she was in her car and driving home quickly, sobs already beginning to break loose.

Santana was not in the mental state to fully take in what Rachel was saying to her, its meaning, or exactly what she was doing, at least in the moment. Her processing told her only that Rachel was leaving, Rachel told her to go back to Brittany, and she wasn't going to dance with her. Renewed over dramaticized emotion took over for about thirty seconds before she swiped at her face, semi composed herself, and stumbled back inside, scanning through the crowd for Brittany. Coming in between her and Quinn and practically pushing her away, she draped herself over Brittany, head bowed into the taller girl's chest as she mumbled down into her, "This is supposed to be fun...why am I still sad?"

It didn't take very long for Santana's inebriated state to take over further, especially when someone either with no brain or a twisted sense of humor handed her another shot. She ended up almost falling when she did try to pull away from Brittany, and the blonde had to steer her towards a couch to lie down. When Santana woke a few hours later, nauseous, experiencing a throbbing headache, and a mouth so dry she could barely swallow, the majority of partiers had gone and the few left were either in a similar state or being caretakers. She vaguely remembered something about Rachel and crying but dismissed it- as much as that had been going on lately, that was hardly a noteworthy recollection. As she lay back down, head in Brittany's lap, she drifted off to sleep fitfully again, not even glancing towards her phone.


	23. Chapter 23

Santana: i feel like shit, way too much drinking last night. want to hang out and have like a lay around watch tv day?

Santana: ill keep it pg even, i dont feel like expending the effort of deflowering u.

Rachel: Do you remember anything from last night, Santana?

Santana: yep, we had a party, i drank and danced and all and now im feeling the wrath of the alcohol demons

Rachel: ... Really? That's all that happened? Nothing more?

Santana: i was sort of hoping we wouldnt actually mention the more part

Rachel: We're definitely mentioning the "more" : ...dammit

Rachel: I think, and this has only aided in my decision, that we need time apart. I can't keep doing this, Santana. I've been crying myself to sleep all week, and as much as I love dramatics, this is : You obviously need to figure a lot out. And I think maybe less time around me and more time with your... girlfriend would help

Santana: wait, whoa, what?!

Santana: time apart, like, not hanging out?

Santana: like at ALL?S

antana: Rachel, come on, i was drunk, i didnt mean to piss you off or whatever

Santana: and i kind of meant it, i wasnt just lying

Santana: i mean

Santana: forget that, dont worry about it

Santana: but...you cant just like stop being around me

**Rachel:** I can, and I am. I can't keep letting you hurt all those involved, including myself. So, if this is what has to be done, I'll do it. And I'm going to.

**Rachel:** You're my friend, Santana. We... We did things together, and I'll never regret that, but it's obvious you don't really know what you want. But you should be focusing on what you HAVE- Brittany.

**Rachel:** And if that relationship doesn't feel right, then fine, but then you have to be honest to her, and yourself. And I'm not staying in the middle of this. Largely for my own physical and emotional well-being.

**Rachel:** So do us all a favor and think all of this out.

**Rachel:** Now then. I need to practice my vocals. Goodbye, Santana. As I said; talk to me when you know what you need.

**Santana:** what?!

**Santana:** Rachel!

**Santana:** i'm not trying to hurt you!

**Santana:** i wouldn't do that anymore

**Santana:** what do you mean GOODBYE?!

**Santana:** are you ignoring me?

**Santana:** did you turn off your phone?

**Santana:** RACHEL!

**Santana:** who am i supposed to talk to then?

**Santana:** this is the worst fucking time of my life, EVER, and you said youre my friend and you won't even talk to me or hang out with me?

**Santana:** Rachel come on, im sorry, please talk to me

**Santana:** Rachel...please

88

Ever since she had screwed up at her own party, making an even bigger mess of things than they already were, Santana had felt like every day she was slowly drowning, barely treading water.

She hadn't meant to say what she had to Rachel, about loving her. She didn't like to think about it now, or about how she had left Brittany to go to Rachel. She definitely didn't want to think about whether or not she had meant it, or what it could mean.

She loved Brittany. She knew that like she knew her name and face. She didn't want to ever hurt her or lose her.

Then how was it possible that she sort of felt the same way about Rachel? That the fact that Rachel wasn't speaking to her or looking at her, would only text her, was making her go through every day feeling sick to her stomach and anxious with a strange, strained grief?

Rachel was right, that what she was doing to her was wrong. She was hurting her, and Santana didn't want to hurt her. She didn't want to be unfair to her or to Brittany either. But…to cut one or the other out of her life seemed wrong and the opposite of what she wanted or needed. Santana wanted them BOTH, for entirely different reasons, and it seemed so unfair that she couldn't have that.

She had found herself actually texting Quinn, even semi forgiving her just because she was so desperate to have SOMEONE to talk to. Brittany was amazing, but deep, emotional talks was not one of her fortes, that was for sure. Santana found herself frequently beginning to feel emotional in school and having to say something especially nasty to the closest person to her to control it, and if she suspected that someone were looking at her or laughing at her, she didn't take time to confirm it before exactly harsh vengeance against them. Her unhappiness this week had upped the frequency and intensity of her being cruel to others as well as of her time spent in the bathroom, slipping back into old, unhealthy habits.

As she sets out to stay with Brittany for the night, she just hopes that they can both distract each other and make each other feel good enough to feel happy. One good thing about all this - Brittany didn't seem to have noticed anything off about the party.

Excitement was filling Brittany as it grew closer to time for Santana to get there, yet she wouldn't allow herself to get too excited. Some part of her actually wondered if Santana was really going to show or if she was going to ditch her to hang out with someone else.

Yes, Brittany was still hanging onto that, but how could she not? One it had just happened the night before and two Santana had promised her that she was going to hang out with her all night and when that didn't happen she was disappointed.

Santana hadn't really been spending too much time with Brittany anyways since they had admitted their love for each other; they'd actually been spending a lot of time apart and really had no contact. Brittany thought maybe Santana was hung up with at home things and so she didn't really want to bother her too much if that was the case. Maybe she'd decided that she didn't really love her and that's why Santana wasn't talking to her much, which would be absolutely heartbreaking because Brittany loved her so much.

Brittany was honestly so confused about the whole entire situation. She didn't even know what to do anymore.

As Santana walked inside Brittany's house without bothering to knock, greeting her mother and sister, she headed straight upstairs for Brittany's room, opening her door without knocking as well. She smiled as she took in the other girl and her outfit, then headed straight for a hug, wrapping her arms around her tightly and nuzzling her face into her neck.

"Missed you," she said, and she meant it genuinely. "You smell good, Britt."

Relief washed over her when she saw and hugged Santana- she was actually there.

"_I_ missed _you_," She told the other girl with a smile. "Oh, thank you. My mom came home with a new bottle of perfume and I had to try it out."

Brittany couldn't stop wondering what Santana was doing before she came to her house. The only thing that really began worrying her was that she was "hanging out" with other girls or even guys. She pushed that thought to the side and let herself be happy that Santana was right in front of her.

"What've you been up to, Santana? I don't get to see a lot of you." Brittany didn't mean to sound as bothered by at it as she did, but she kept her smile and hoped Santana hadn't caught on.

Santana shrugged, deflecting the question easily. The truth was she genuinely hadn't been doing much of anything since Rachel's ban of their hanging out, worried that Brittany would see how upset it made her if she spent time with Brittany too.

"Not much. Been sort of a rough week…but now I'm with you so it's all better," she declared, giving her a slightly flirty smile as she traced her fingers down her neck. "What about you?"

Brittany smiled back at Santana- she was the sweetest.

"I took LT to the vet to see if they'd transfer him to a kitty drug rehab. Apparently those aren't real things, so… it's whatever though. Other than that, I've been at home or at school."

That wasn't entirely the truth, she'd been hanging out with other people to keep her mind off Santana. She was at a different Cheerios house almost every day or staying the night at Artie's, but she didn't want Santana to know that, she almost wanted Santana to feel bad for not being around, as awful as it sounded.

Santana held back a smile as Brittany told her about Lord Tubbington and his addiction issues. She had no idea how the girl figured he was a drug addict, but that cat made anything possible.

"I'm sorry he's not, uh, doing well, Britt," she said, rubbing her hand up the girl's arm. "He's a handful, huh?"

Lord Lardass was how she privately thought of him, but she wasn't about to say that to Brittany. Linking arms with her, she continued to lean into her, wanting Brittany to semi cuddle her back.

"Wanna help each other forget?"

Brittany was so loving the fact that that Santana was clinging onto her, but in all honesty, Brittany didn't want to cuddle or do anything beyond that- for the first time ever. She wanted to talk to Santana.

However, she didnt know what she wanted to say, exactly. Things were weird between them or so she felt like; she didn't feel like she could just spill how she felt to Santana. She was worried Santana would start thinking that she was weird if she sat there and said nothing, but words wouldnt form. absolutely nothing would come out, no matter how hard she tried.

It didn't take Santana very long to realize that something was up. Brittany had her spells of not talking very much, but this, her being completely quiet, and not responding to her touch or initiating touch of her own…it was very unusual and very unlike her. Obviously something was wrong.

Pulling back, frowning, Santana looked into the taller girl's eyes, sliding her hands down her arms to take both her hands into hers. "Brit, what's the matter?"

It took Brittany a moment after Santana spoke to actually get herself to say something. She really didn't want to know what was up, but she couldn't handle not knowing things anymore.

"Can I ask you something?" Brittany looked down at their hands. "Actually I don't care if I can or not. Why'd you leave me at the party? That wasn't cool and you promised me that you were going to hang out with me the entire night."

At this entirely unexpected question, Santana's cheeks slowly reddened, and she looked away from Brittany, her grip on her hands loosening. She had thought she had gotten away with that, that Brittany had also been drunk and distracted and had forgotten. She had thought judging off Brittany being happy for her to come over that she was in the clear.

But Brittany wasn't stupid. Other people might think so, but she wasn't. She processed things differently and in her own time…but she knew that she had been ditched.

It was a question that Santana still didn't know how to answer, even sober, even to herself. So how was she supposed to do with Brittany?

"I don't know, Britt," she said quietly, shrugging. "I was drunk. I'm sorry."

"Okay, well, why wouldn't anyone let me come get you? What about the few weeks where you forgot about me? I guess I don't get why you don't want to be around me anymore. It really sucks because I love you and I wanna be around you."

Brittany sighed heavily.

Santana's 'I was drunk' excuse was used constantly, sometimes even when she hadn't been drinking at all. She wasn't letting that be all that was said about the situation- she needed more than that; if she didn't get it she felt like she might go crazy.

That wasn't something she felt often, just when she didn't know things that everyone else knew. She didn't like being left out of the loop.

God, Santana hated when Brittany got observant.

She had a way of saying things plainly and simply, without any beating around the bush, a way that cut straight to Santana's guilty conscience and hurt her heart. Rachel was right…it wasn't fair, what she was doing to her or Brittany both. She was a selfish, awful person to try to have them both at once, to make them both lose out in the process.

But she wanted them both. She was pretty sure now she loved them both. And how could she give up one or the other when she felt like she needed them both in entirely different ways?

"I didn't forget about you, baby," she said quietly. "I was just…I was figuring out I was gay, and I didn't think you loved me, so it hurt to be around you. I love you. I want to be with you too."

She didn't mention the party, hoping Brittany would be distracted by the rest of her words.

Something was still missing from the story. Brittany wasn't the best detective and sometimes she couldn't figure out small things, but obviously something was missing. Everyone was being secretive and it didn't take a super genius to figure it out.

Santana was being extremely sweet, which Brittany liked. She liked it when Santana said that she loved her and wanted to be around her. She let herself smile for a moment, but quickly snapped back to reality.

"Tell me everything, Santana. Why are all of you guys telling secrets and not letting me in on it? You all know how much I like secrets. Why am I not being let in on it?"

When Brittany started to smile, Santana thought she was in the clear. Only clearly this wasn't the case, because only a few minutes later, she was starting up all over again. More questions Santana didn't want to answer. How could she look Brittany in the eye and tell her that she basically was…what exactly WAS going on with Rachel?

Exhaling, she turned away from her, going to sit on her bed while still keeping her face averted. Beginning to run her fingers repeatedly through her hair, she tried to think of what to say, her voice shaking slightly.

"It's…Brit, I just…I don't want to hurt you. You know I love you. I love you so much…I don't wanna mess that up."

"Not telling me is hurting me."

Simple as that. Keeping things from her was hurting her more than any secret could ever hurt her. It was killing her that this was going on and to be quite honest she was exhausted from trying to figure out what it was. Brittany just needed someone to tell her what was up and then she could move on with her life.

It was hard to get stuff out of Santana, though, she figured it was time to just give up; let things be.

"It's whatever though. You don't have to tell me."

Brittany couldn't have said much more to sink the knife in deep. Hearing her say so plainly that Santana was hurting her, knowing that it was true, was enough for Santana to have to press her lips into a thin line, blinking back sudden tears as she tried to pull herself together.

She couldn't keep doing this. Brittany and Rachel both didn't deserve this. But god, what would happen if Brittany did hear the truth? What if she was mad or upset? What if she broke up with Santana? What if she hated her?

But she owed her the truth.

Santana took a deep breath, hands gripping her knees tightly before she managed, "Britt…before you and me were together…you know you were cuddle cheating? I…sorta did that too. With …sorta more."

She paused, then said in a burst, "I…sort of…I know it sounds stupid and wrong but…I kind of have feelings for her. I love you, Brittany. I love you so much. I don't ever want to lose you."

But…both of them could hear the unspoken "but" at the end of that sentence, so much so that Santana cringed, certain Brittany would voice it. Finally she concluded, almost in a whisper, "But I think maybe I love Rachel too."

Her face jerking up to Brittany's, she met her eyes, pleading, her hands trembling in her lap as she almost begs her, "Please don't hate me. Please don't be mad. I'm sorry…I didn't want this to happen."

After hearing all of this, she didn't want to know anymore, she wanted Santana to take it all back. She wished she hadn't asked so she didn't have to hear that Santana loved another girl too. How could Santana love Rachel?! She continuously shook her head trying to get the information out, but it wasn't helping at all.

She was angry and sad and so many other emotions that she almost didn't even know how she felt. She scooted away from Santana, swallowing back the lump in her throat. She was doing everything she could not to cry, she wouldn't be able to be serious if she was bawling her eyes out.

"You… you have to choose Santana; right here, right now. Me or… her?"

She couldn't even say her name.

Brittany felt like the least she deserved was an answer after all the lying Santana had done, which apparently had been a lot. Brittany never thought Santana would do something like this, that's why they were best friends; Santana would never hurt her or let anyone else hurt her. It was all too much for Brittany to get all of that hurt from Santana- that'd never happened before.

Somehow Santana had known, deep down, that it would come to this.

It was a simple question, and there should be an immediate, simple answer. She had known and loved Brittany for years now. Brittany had been the catalyst to knowing who she truly was. Brittany just FIT with her in so many ways, precisely because they were so different. Santana could not imagine living her daily life without hearing Brittany's unintentionally funny comments and philosophies, without her linking pinkies or shooting her special smile her way. Santana couldn't even think of what it would be like or what it would mean to have Brittany take this away from her.

The thought of Brittany being angry at her for the long term, maybe even hating her, was enough to make her insides twist with grief. Tears pricked at her eyes, but even as she tried to stay calm, a part of her was beginning to slowly smolder with growing resentment.

She had not forced Brittany to choose. When she told Brittany she loved her, she hadn't asked that Brittany pick her over anyone else. She had treated Brittany wrongly and with some deception, but still…didn't Brittany understand that this was hard for her too?

Rachel hadn't made her choose on the spot.

"Brittany, I love you," she repeated, trying desperately to think of the right solution, the right decision. She couldn't lose Brittany. But how could she cut Rachel out of her life, go back to the animosity they'd once shared after everything?

"I love you," she whispered, knowing even as she spoke that her lack of a response to Brittany was probably an answer Brittany would interpret all the same.

Forever and a day was how long it seemed to be for an answer from Santana, shouldn't she know? That's all Brittany kept thinking, shouldn't Santana know who she really loves? For the blonde, that was an easy answer: Santana. She loved Santana- she could never love anyone else and that's what made this even worse.

"I love you too, Santana. I- I need a name, though… or you know what? Actually, you just take a few days, if that's what you need, and you come back to me when you've made your decision. 'Cause I don't think I could handle hearing who you want right now, whether it's me or her." Brittany's voice was shaky along with her whole entire body; she still in shock.

Space was what Brittany needed now. It wasn't that she didn't want to be around Santana because she did and she was going to miss Santana like crazy, but she couldn't look at Santana without wanting to burst into tears or thinking about all the things Santana and Rachel had done.

Ugh, that was one thing Brittany really didn't want to think about, Rachel and Santana being together in that way. It literally sickened her thinking of Santana and Rachel kissing and touching one another, but it was hard to get the image out of her mind. What if Santana liked Rachel's kisses more than hers? Or her cuddles?

Hearing Brittany's directive, Santana's face slowly heated, and she stared down into her lap, her hands clinching and releasing her knees with her strained reaction to her words. First Rachel, now Brittany….she had wanted them both, tried to hang onto them both, and now she was losing them both. Neither one of them wanted to be around her…not until she made a choice.

But how could she choose to cut off one or the other? How could she hurt either? How could she stand to be alone for as long as it would take to decide, with no one to help her make a decision she was desperate to avoid?

"Brittany," she repeated, her voice choked with the tears becoming progressively harder to hold back. "I love you. No matter what, please, please believe how much I love you."

The choice should be obvious, a complete no brainer. Brittany. Brittany was her world, had been since middle school, and they'd been friends before. Brittany was the one whom she'd shared countless sleepovers and cuddle sessions, her first girl to have sex with, her first girl to open herself up to and really let herself be a softer version of her own self with. Brittany was the first person to see a different, better side of her, the first person to love her no matter what a bitch she was. Brittany was the one she'd danced with and shared pinkie locks with, the one who could make her smile just be a single look. Brittany was the one who opened her up to so much of herself and her life.

It should be Brittany.

But.

Rachel, with her earnest caring, even when Santana had done nothing at all that should warrant her concern. Rachel, who had had such hot sex with clothes on with her that she couldn't even begin to imagine what would happen if Rachel really let things go. Rachel, who never gave up on her no matter what Santana did to her, who was all too willing to forgive her and let her try again. Rachel, who saw past Santana's cruelties and masks to a deeper person than Santana herself had known existed. Rachel, who had listened to her at all hours of the night and actually known what to say back, who connected to her on a more mature and meaningful level than Santana would have thought she even wanted.

Rachel, who even now was letting herself be hurt by Santana by letting her text her as she made her choice. Rachel, who told her that the choice was hers to make, and didn't try to force her to choose either side.

How could she forget any of that? How could she want to?

"You want me to leave?" she said to Brittany, her voice shaking, even as she reached out for the other girl's hand. She knew the second she left, she would be crying. She had been supposed to spend the night with her.

How did she do this to herself?

No, of course Brittany didn't want Santana to leave. She wanted Santana to lay down with her and say that she loved her and she was the one Santana wanted to be with. Brittany knew that wasn't going to be the answer though, you don't fall in love with another person unless you don't truly love the person your with. That was one of the many things her nana always told her.

Brittany shrugged her shoulders, letting Santana take it either way. But, she knew if Santana stayed, she'd want her to be gone. If Santana was gone, she'd want her there.

"I have to ask you something. Do you love her like you say you love me? Or more?"

Brittany clenched her teeth. It was a painful thing for her to ask, but it needed to be out there. She needed to know if she loved Rachel more than her, if she got just that small of an answer then she'd know who Santana wanted to be with, even though the answer was something she was dreading to hear.

God, she wished nothing more for the world to rewind, so she could start the day off again. She could have Santana stay over without things being weird. She wouldn't open her mouth about anything party related and she would keep things the way they were. If she kept things the way they were, Brittany felt like she could deal with Santana sneaking off to see Rachel, as long as she didn't know.

For the first time, she thought about Rachel. Rachel was probably feeling the exact same way Brittany was feeling right now. That was awful. Santana wasn't just hurting Brittany she was hurting Rachel the exact same way, the only difference was everyone knew about Santana and Brittany, which made Rachel the girl on the side. She just felt sad for Rachel. She needed an answer from Santana so both her and for Rachel- this wasn't fair to either of them.

Two very hard questions…how did Brittany, who usually drifted through the day with seemingly nothing more important on her mind than the fate of Lord Tubbington's rehab adventures, seem lately to zero in on exactly what was impossible for Santana to talk about?

She knew that she didn't love Rachel more than Brittany. But as much…that she wasn't sure about. That was something she didn't even want to ask herself, let alone answer…because she was terrified of how Brittany might react to the truth.

It was impossible to look at Brittany now, to see the anger and hurt in her expression, carried out through her posture. It made Santana genuinely hate herself for causing it, for having deceived her. How could she do something that would cause Brittany so much pain? How could she keep herself from thinking about hurting one of the people she loved most in the world, one of the few people who loved her too?

Yet how could she keep lying to her, when all Brittany wanted now from her was the truth? But how could she bear it if the truth drove her away?

A tear slid down her cheek as Santana stared down into her lap, beginning to tear absently at the cuticles of one hand. "I don't love her more, Brittany," she muttered. "But…like you. I'm sorry. I do love you though. I do want to be with you. Please, please don't be mad."

Hearing Santana say that she loved Rachel the way she loved her- that was what finally broke Brittany down. Tears began falling down her cheeks, her breathing fastened; she covered her face as she tried to get herself back under control. She un-covered her face so she could look at Santana as she spoke.

"I'm n-not _mad_, exactly; I'm more hurt than anything. I don't understand how you can love two people at once. I don't love anyone except for you and I don't think I could ever love anyone else the same way I love you, Santana."

Brittany used the back of her hand to wipe the tears off her chin, followed by a small sniffle.

At this point, Brittany was just scared. She was scared that even though Santana continuously said that she loved her and wanted to be with her, that she'd still want Rachel. What if they stayed together? Would Santana still go sneaking around with Rachel behind Brittany's back? Was that even something Brittany wanted to risk? It wasn't like she could keep Santana away from Rachel- she sort of wished she could- but she couldn't.

Watching Brittany's face fall, seeing her start to cry, was too much for Santana to be able to stand. She had never made Brittany cry before. She beat the hell out of people who were mean to Brittany, and if someone ever made her cry, they would be crying out of physical pain by the end of the day when Santana was through with them. But now she was the one making Brittany cry, she was the one hurting her, and Santana could hardly take it.

More tears fell as she moved closer to Brittany, reaching out to wipe her cheeks and then cup her face in her hands. She leaned in to kiss her, wanting to do something, anything to take away that awful hurt look in Brittany's eyes.

"I don't know," she choked out. "I don't know either. But I do. I don't want to but I do. I love you so much, Brittany, I'm so sorry."

And she knew all those things, she knew Santana was sorry and she loved her and so on, but she didn't feel like an 'I'm sorry' was making up for all the lying. She wasn't sure what exactly could make up for it; she wasn't sure what she wanted, at all- other than her answer.

"I love you too, Santana." Brittany put her hand on Santana's leg. "I really do, and that's why I want you to take some time and figure out who and what you want."

Brittany clenched her jaw to help herself from crying more, that was the last thing she wanted to do. She took a deep breath through her nose and gave Santana a small fake smile.

"Just think really hard, Santana. Please."

Santana could tell that Brittany was faking her smile. It was watery and small, and didn't reach her eyes. She had never thought she would see a day where Brittany would give her that smile, and it made her stomach flip, sickened.

Sniffling, she took in another slow breath, released it, then leaned in to kiss Brittany's cheek. She breathed in her scent, biting the inside of her cheeks, as she withdrew. Brittany had asked her to leave, and she had to go. She didn't know where she would go or what she would do, but she couldn't stay here and keep making her cry.

"I love you, Brittany," she said one last time, in a whisper, before slowly making her way out of the room and out the house. She managed to make it into her car and out of the driveway before bursting into tears.


	24. Chapter 24

"Mom! I'm going out!" She yelled through the house, grabbing her keys and heading out to her car. Quinn let out a sigh of relief as she started the engine, backing out of her driveway and driving over to Santana's. She was fortunate enough for both girls to forgive her, even though she knew she didn't deserve to be.

It had only taken about ten minutes to get to her place, wondering whether or not to just honk the horn or walk up to her door. She shook her head, getting out of the car and towards the front door, pressing the doorbell and waited.

It was not Santana who answered the door, but rather her abuela. Santana, having shut herself into her room as soon as she saw that her abuela planned to be in the living room and moving throughout the house, had barely gotten out into the hallway by the time Alma responded. Her lips pinched, her brow furrowing with disapproval as she stared at Quinn, suspicion now brimming in her eyes as she regarded the girl she had seen come inside her home so many times before with new opinions already formed.

"You and the other child in this home will not be engaging in any sinful behavior for as long as I am here to do something about it," she declared tautly. "You may not come into my home and taint it with any such obscenities. You and the girl can very well go befoul your own house if that is your plan for this afternoon."

Clearly, she was no longer using Santana's name. As Santana came into view, her face paling when she saw her abuela standing facing Quinn at the door, her abuela backed away without looking at her or addressing her.

When the door opened, Quinn had expected Santana to be on the other side of the door. Hopes too high, she froze at the sight of her grandmother, squirming under her cold stare. It was only when she started speaking that she could only grow angry with her. How could she talk about Santana like that?

Her mouth opened, wanting to argue that the way she was treating Santana was a mistake, when she caught her friend from the corner of her eye. She immediately shut her mouth, not wanting to say anything that would make things worse between Santana and her abuela.

Quinn glanced at Santana's grandmother before giving her full attention to her. "Hey, S," she said lowly, pushing away her anger.

Santana just nodded, her eyes flickering back to her abuela as though expecting her to speak, but she knew that she wouldn't. Alma Lopez refused to directly acknowledge her any longer, and she was already walking out of the room, not wishing to remain anywhere near her. Santana bit her lip, taking in a slow breath before turning to Quinn, hardening her expression.

"Let's go."

Quinn ran a hand through her hair, following behind Santana. "That was fun," she commented in a sarcastic tone. She sighed, catching up to her, now walking by her side. "Are you okay?" She knew it was quite obvious. Her grandmother was being a bitch and hardly referred to Santana by her name. All she heard was "other child" or "that girl." What was worse was that the blonde was immediately assumed to be some girl she'd be hooking up with.

Santana nodded without speaking or looking at her, her jaw clinched, bottom lip briefly catching between her teeth as she walked. She opened the passenger side of the car and slid in, waiting for Quinn to get in as well, and remained quiet for a few moments as the girl started the car, trying to hide her thoughts.

She was ashamed, for Quinn to see how upsetting her home was to her now, angry that her abuela wouldn't back down, but more so, she was embarrassed. For Quinn to see this, to see her family like this, was to make herself too vulnerable.

"Let's go already."

Quinn got into the driver's side of her car, staring at Santana for a few moments. It was terrible to see what she's been going through, and the Latina's words from the night of the party only made it feel like everything was her fault. She outed her, and the gossip around Lima spread like wildfire. Because of that, Santana had to come out to her family before they could hear it from anyone else.

Shaking her thoughts, she started the engine and they left the Lopez home. The blonde didn't know where to go to, but she settled for just driving around town for a while. "Do you…do you want to talk about it?" She asked hesitantly.

Did she want to talk about it? Santana didn't want to live in the moment of it, let alone relive it through words later. She knew that Quinn was sorry for outing her. She knew the girl was her friend, deep down, and would take it back if she could. But that didn't change that it had happened, that her life would never be the same, and that she was struggling through every day. Granted, she had been before being outed too, but it was on another level now, with more active opposition from the people who should love her most.

"There's nothing to talk about," she shrugged, keeping her eyes fixed ahead. "It happened, it's gonna keep happening, and there's nothing anyone can do about it. I'm just tired, Quinn."

Quinn sucked in a breath, glancing at her from the corner of her eye. There was _a lot_ to talk about. In the back of her mind, she kept repeating "sorry" for the millionth time. If only she hadn't been so persistent in getting into their business, all of this wouldn't be happening. The second she found out about everything, she should have just left it all and walked away.

Sighing, she tightened her grip on the wheel, angry at herself. "If things get too rough on you, you're always welcome to stay over," she offered, chewing on her lower lip. It was hardly helpful, but she didn't know what to say.

Santana licked her lips, training her eyes straight ahead of her as she tried to push down the softer emotions that Quinn's offer brings up in her. She doesn't want to look like this matters to her in front of her. She doesn't want to show that any of this hurts, or that Quinn's offer matters to her. Releasing a breath, she nods.

"Since I can't go to Brittany or Rachel…I guess that's good then."

She pauses, still staring out the window before adding quietly, " They sort of both wont' be around me anymore."

Quinn's eyes shot to her immediately, hearing that neither Rachel or Brittany would be around her. "_What?_" She heard a honk and she looked forward, stepping on the brakes before she could drive past a red light and cross the intersection. She shut her eyes, silently thanking God for keeping them alive. _Eyes on the road, Fabray._

Taking in a deep breath, she kept her attention on the road. "I understand Rachel not being around, but Britt?" She sighed, licking her lips. "What happened?"

Slumping down further in her seat, Santana clinched and unclinched her fists, letting her nails bite into her palms, and uses this to keep herself in a somewhat composed state. She lightly begins to kick beneath the dashboard, knowing it will bother Quinn as she finally answers.

"I told Brittany. About Rachel. It didn't…go well."

"I'm sorry about that." Quinn frowned, shaking her head. She knows Santana loves the both of them a lot; she wanted the both of them. In the end, though, it could only be one. As she stopped at a red light, she turned her head to look at her.

"She's asking you to choose between them, I'm guessing?"

Santana nodded, still carefully averting her eyes. One hand worried the cuticles of the other as she took her time with her response.

"Yeah. It was kind of bad."

Trying to change the subject, releasing a breath just a little too loudly, she turns back towards Quinn, her voice slightly strained.

"Where are we going? Being stuck in a car all day is gonna make me claustrophobic, especially since your perfume kinda reeks."

Quinn was about to ask her what she was going to do about it, but Santana quickly pushed the subject aside. The blonde didn't want to push it, deciding to at least get the Latina's mind off of her problems for once.

She narrowed her eyes at her comment. "I actually think that's your natural smell stinking up my car," she retorted, shaking her head.

"You hungry? We can go to Breadstix."

"I naturally smell like a dead person covered with wilted lilacs? You're so full of shit, own up, you have sucky taste in fragrances," Santana rolled her eyes, giving Quinn a faint smirk as she relaxed just a tad in body.

At least Quinn seemed willing to move past the intensity of the moment, to go back to banter and surface level conversation, which Santana was infinitely more comfortable with. She appreciated the girl letting it go like that in spite of her guilt.

"Yeah, sure, sounds good. You know you're paying though since you basically owe me, oh, forever," she shot back.

She WAS hungry, given that she hadn't eaten much of anything since Friday night and the confrontation with Brittany. It was Sunday now and a vague, consistent gnawing had settled in her stomach. It was probably true that she would either feel compelled to go for a long run afterward or would use other methods to get rid of it, but she could put on a face for Quinn like usual, at least for a couple of hours.

Quinn scoffed, shaking her head. "You do know I could slap you right here, right now, right? Don't think I forgot about that." She bit back a smile, rolling her own eyes. Santana was that friend whom she would fight a lot with, but still would would be there by her side whenever.

The blonde smirked once she agreed, knowing how much Santana enjoyed going to that restaurant. She scrunched her nose once she learned she had to pay for the both of them.

"Fine, but I will tear you down if you order everything off of the menu," she warned. When she thought she was going to have to make up for everything, she didn't think she'd have to pay for the girl's lunch.

"No, because that would be a hate crime, remember?" Santana gave her a falsely sweet smile, then reached out to mess up Quinn's hair. "You've done enough of those lately."

Settling back in her seat again, she shrugged, ignoring Quinn's warning. She'd order what she wanted and enjoy every second of it, at least in the moment. She was already planning her menu as they pulled into the parking lot and got out of the car, heading inside. Quinn was all right, sometimes. They would never be exactly touchy feely, at least not in the usual sense of the word, but Santana understood where they stood with each other and knew Quinn did too.

The blonde groaned when she messed up her hair, swatting Santana's hand away. "Again, you're a bitch," was all she could say to her, though Quinn wouldn't necessarily slap her. Not now, anyway. Maybe in the future when they have another useless fight over something.

Quinn parked her car in the lot of the restaurant, not even getting the chance to pull her keys out of the ignition when Santana hopped out of the car. "Wait up," she grumbled, getting out and locking her car before catching up to her.

She brought the both of them over to a booth and slid in, now realizing just how hungry she was from the smell of food. "You order first since I know you know the menu by heart."

"But you love me," Santana smiled back, sticking out her tongue and waggling it in a vaguely sexual manner, putting up two fingers in a V on impulse to further make her point. She hurried ahead of Quinn, ignoring her, but did slow down enough so the girl would catch up to her by the time she was at the front door.

She almost felt normal again, or at least vaguely near it by the time she sat across from Quinn in the booth, giving her time to look through the menu before ordering. Squirming slightly, she kicked her beneath the table, still wanting to keep the conversation as normal and free of her own self as possible.

"So you and Sam get around to screwing yet?"

Quinn scrunched her nose in disgust, averting her eyes away. "I would rather you not show that when we're in a restaurant, about to eat," she reminded her, glancing around if anyone saw. She pushed her hands down and rolled her eyes. "God, why are we friends?" She questioned, though it was in a slight playful tone.

Picking up the menu, she looked through the orders until she stilled at her question. Scoffing, she shook her head and slumped in her seat. "We've made out, but I'll hardly let him touch me." Not after what happened with Puck.

"Why? It's the same thing either way, eating has nothing to do with it," Santana laughed, rolling her eyes at Quinn's discomfort and slight embarrassment. "It's not like I spat on you. It's fingers. Totally clean..physically."

She noticed Quinn's reaction to her question and paid closer attention, leaning in towards her and raising an eyebrow. "Why not? I would think the making out would be more of a skeeve factor with his huge froggy lip thing he has going, but there's nothing wrong with his hands…ah, something wrong with his dick then?"

The blonde shuddered at an inappropriate image, pushing away the thought. "I really don't want to know more, so whatever you do in bed stays in your mouth," she warned, waving her index finger at her.

"His lips are fine," Quinn mumbled. "_No!_ I just don't want to have—" She glanced around, lowering in her seat when she realized people turned to look her way, "—I don't want to have sex, alright? Not after what happened last year. I don't want a repeat of it," she murmured lowly, focusing back onto the menu. "Just call a waiter over and order your damn food," she sighed, shaking her head.

Santana observed Quinn, her eyebrows knitting slightly as she took in her reaction. Backing off, she did as Quinn asked, ordering her meal, and then took a few moments after the waiter had left before she reached across the table, putting one hand over Quinn's.

It wasn't usual for them to be openly supportive or affectionate, not without much banter and putdowns in between. But whether or not Santana herself realized it, she was changing, and she responded to Quinn now with quiet concern.

"Can't you be on birth control, or have an implant or something? Double condoms?"

Hazel eyes shot down to their hands once Santana placed hers on Quinn's. It was a small gesture, but the blonde appreciated it nonetheless. A bit unusual between the both of them, but she let herself relax from the small action, her lips forming a small smile.

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "I don't exactly trust those.." Her teeth dug into her lower lip, thinking back to the night she and Puck had sex. It was all still a haze, considering she was tipsy from the alcohol he had given her. She didn't remember anything.

"I just don't want to deal with that mess again, for now," Quinn shrugged.

Santana continued to observe her for a few moments, head tilted slightly, and nodded, finding this understandable. She had been there for part of Beth's birth and had found even that tiny bit of it rather horrifying to see and hear. She couldn't imagine having to go through it herself.

"Yeah, guess that's one of the advantages of going lesbo," she shrugged, giving Quinn's hand a light squeeze. "Sure you don't wanna join the other team? We're pretty awesome in bed and no chance of unwanted beings growing like a parasite in you."

She smiled, teasing.

Throughout the conversation, Quinn's thoughts were stuck on Beth. She wondered how well Rachel's mom was taking care of her, and if Quinn would still have her daughter if things were different. It didn't matter, though. Neither her nor Puck knew anything about raising a child.

She snickered at her comment, rolling her eyes at her question though felt at comfort when Santana gently squeezed her hand. "I hope that's not you suggesting you want to fuck me."

Quinn managed a small laugh, shaking her head. "Thanks, but I'm really not into that."

"Well now that you mention it…" Santana continued to tease, looking up and pretending to think hard about the possibility, before snorting, shaking her head. "Right, Q, no offense but you probably kind of suck in bed considering you've had sex, like, once, and you were drunk at the time. It might be fun to tease you how to lose the repression but I kinda have my hands full already."

Boy, did she. Thinking of this, of Brittany and Rachel and the choice she still had before her, her smile faded.

Quinn's jaw fell to the floor, a scoff leaving her lips. "While I have no experience, there's something called learning… Or reading things on the internet," she mumbled the last part under her breath.

As the Latina's smile faded away, another frown made its way to the blonde's lips. She slid her hand from under Santana's, only to place it on top of hers and squeezed her hand sympathetically. It was her own silent gesture saying she'll stick with her throughout the whole situation, and help as much as she could.

Quinn brought herself into the situation, and it was only fair if she helped her friend. "You don't need this right now." She glanced over Santana's shoulder, noticing their waiter was returning to them with their orders. "We're going to sit here, we're going to eat, and we're going to talk about different ways to make the younger Cheerios _not_ look like disappointments or some other ridiculous crap. Alright?"

"Internet learning is like asking Brittany how to change a tire…halfway through she'll start talking about kittens and mittens and cookies or something, and you'll be totally lost," Santana gave her a small smile. "I could show you where some decent videos are though."

As the waiter brought them their order, and Santana listened to Quinn redirect the conversation, her smile became more genuine. In her own way, in her own timing, Quinn could be a good friend. Picking up her fork, she began to eat and immediately launched into this safer topic, picking apart which Cheerios sucked and why.

Once she was finished, however, her restlessness returned as she began to think of how many calories were in what she had eaten and how long it would take to work it off, what Sue would say if she had been there watching her. Squirming, Santana jiggled her legs beneath the table and attempted to think up a plausible excuse to leave.

"Most of the time it really takes me a while to understand what she says," she commented. Quinn's eyes grew wide, her whole face now turning a dark shade of red, having an idea of just what videos she was referring to. "I am not going to watch those!"

Once their food was brought over, Quinn watched her friend in amusement as she began to eat. She could only laugh and grin throughout their conversation when Santana went on about the Cheerios she believed that sucked, and Quinn couldn't help but agree.

After all their food had been consumed, the blonde let out a tired sigh, leaning back against her seat. "You were _really_ hungry," she said, eyeing her now empty plates. Her gaze raised back to Santana, noticing the way she squirmed in her seat. "Anywhere else you want to go?"

"Aw, Q, you know you're curious..no harm in letting your wild side take over. Five minutes…although you could see the whole hour if you want, I don't mind," Santana shot back, but her tone was absent, and she fiddled with her fork, not meeting her eyes. "Educational."

Her eyes jerked up as Quinn commented that she had been really hungry, and she looks down at her empty plate, taking the comment much more seriously than the blonde had intended. Quinn must think she was being a pig. Maybe Quinn was wondering how she managed to do anything in cheerleading after eating so much. Maybe she thought Santana would suck tomorrow and get demoted. Maybe she thought she was gaining weight. Was she?

"Hold that thought," Santana said casually, putting up one hand. "Gotta hit the john."

Quinn huffed out a breath, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'd really rather not. You're welcome to watch them yourself, when I'm not around far from my hearing or eyesight," she pressed, resisting from rolling her eyes again.

Her eyes trailed over Santana, arching an eyebrow as curiosity spread across her face. The Latina had gone from upset to acting strange. Maybe this whole thing just wasn't enough to get Santana's mind off of everything. Was she that bad at trying to comfort a friend? It'd be upsetting to have to search up ways to make your friend feel better.

"Um, alright," was all she could say as she watched her get up from her seat and head for the restroom. Sighing, she pulled out her phone and checked the time.

**_Maybe I should text Rachel or Brittany for help.._**

No. That was probably the last thing Santana needed right now, and Quinn would possibly make things worse by doing so. Shaking her head, she placed her phone down and called the waiter for the bill.

In the bathroom, Santana remained controlled, even as her thoughts tumbled with anxiety and self-doubt, persistent and worrying. She was a pig. She was fat. She would never stay a decent size, eating like that. She hadn't run her full routine today. She wouldn't fit in her skirt tomorrow if she let this go. She knew what she had to do, and she could do it fast, now.

Santana "took care of things," as she called it in her own head, within five minutes' time in the stall, first checking to make sure no one else was in the bathroom with her. After wiping her mouth off, rinsing out her mouth, and checking to make sure her eyes weren't too red, she checked her stomach in the mirror, reassuring herself it was still flat, before returning to Quinn in the restaurant. Sliding across from her, she smiled casually, pushing her mind past the events in the bathroom and almost convincing herself she had forgotten.

"Ready to go?"

Once their food was paid for, Quinn impatiently waited for her friend to come back. She checked her phone here and there, and though five minutes only passed, it felt quite more than that. Worried would be more of an understatement for what she felt, and she had nearly jumped up at her feet when Santana finally returned.

"Yeah, I paid the bill." She glanced over to the restroom before eyeing her carefully. "Is everything okay?"

Quinn was looking at her weird. Had she taken longer than she thought in there? No, Santana had checked the time, it had been six and a half minutes exactly. That was nothing. Wasn't it?

She knew she didn't have any stains on her clothes or face. She had checked. She hadn't missed anything. Did Quinn smell something, somehow? Or was she just at transparent?

Despite her worry, Santana's face remained smooth she nodded. "Yeah, course. You get the bill? You're paying, remember."

Quinn studied her carefully, her brows furrowed together. Maybe Santana was difficult to understand from other people's perspectives, even herself sometimes, but Quinn could understand her most of the time, whether if the Latina's a second away from tearing someone apart or just as simple as knowing she's having a small problem.

She nodded towards the bill, "I've already paid." Sliding out of the booth, she stood up. "Am I bringing you home or do you want to stay over? I don't think my mom won't mind."

"Can I stay?" Santana asked as she too slid out of the booth, turning to face Quinn. "I'm sort of trying not to be home. Like, ever."

It might be a little weird, staying with Quinn after everything, but maybe it will help continue to patch things up between them. And there was no way it could be as bad or awkward as being in the same general vicinity as her abuela.

As they started towards the car Santana thought she felt Quinn's eyes on her, but maybe she was exaggerating to herself. There was no way the blonde could know.

Quinn didn't hesitate to tell her it was more than okay for her to come over, nodding her head. She left the restaurant with Santana and headed towards the blonde's car. Quinn continued to look at her curiously, many different questions flowing through her head. She felt the need to question what was going on in the bathroom, although Santana _did_ eat quite a lot.

She pushed her thoughts away and got into the driver's seat, starting the engine. "Do you need to go back and grab some clothes or are you just going to use mine?" Her eyebrow arched at her friend out of habit before beginning to pull out of the parking lot.

Santana was never entirely sure what Quinn's eyebrow arch meant. She usually assumed the girl was silently judging or condescending, but she didn't seem to be now. Dismissing it as something weird about Quinn she just didn't get, she shrugged, responding to her.

"I'll use yours if that's okay. At least today. Unless your ass is so big now nothing will fit," she teased, raising her own eyebrows back at her and smirking. "And I know my boobs are probably too big for anything you got."

Of course that wasn't true even with her breast implants, but it was still fun to pretend it was.

At her comment, Quinn clenched her jaw, breath hitched in her throat. If only Santana knew how much those words affected her. Quinn always tried to hide away her insecurities, hiding behind this facade of an HBIC who showed no weakness. The blonde cared about image, and that included her body. Her past was what made her this way, and she was never going back. No one knew - no one knew about _Lucy_, and Quinn made sure it stayed that way.

Shaking off Santana's comment, Quinn began to drive to her own house. "I don't assume you sleep with a bra on," she chuckled slightly, eyes locked on the road. "I have a large t-shirt that's too big for me, so you can wear that."

Santana noticed Quinn suck in her breath but didn't think much of it. She assumed Quinn was just irritated with her for teasing, nothing new and

Definitely nothing to worry about. They had never been the most touchy-feely and complimentary of friends, so making comments meant to keep the other's ego in check was a given- even if both of them genuinely needed a self-esteem boost as it was.

The rule of the game between them was, no matter how badly they felt about themselves, they couldn't let the other person know. They were supposed to seem above it all, always sure of themselves and their own beauty and coolness and talent, no matter what. To let Quinn know, on a regular basis, how truly badly she felt about herself, or for Quinn to tell her the same? That would be so weird Santana couldn't imagine it happening.

Still, she did appreciate the girl's efforts with her, even if it was driven from guilt, so when they pulled up to Quinn's driveway, Santana hesitated, then reached out to awkwardly put a hand on Quinn's arm. "Thanks. For letting me stay."

The two girls had never truly been so open with each other; the most comfortable, sure, but they never truly voiced their thoughts and feelings. Brittany was the only one out of the three's friendship that either Santana and Quinn would tell their feelings to, and that's how they communicated when they couldn't say it face to face.

They reached the Fabray household, the one that now Quinn and her mother lives in since Judy and Russel's divorce. It was more of a downgrade, much smaller than what they had before, but it felt more like home than her other household.

Letting out a small sigh as she stopped the car, leaning back against her seat. Surprise struck her when she felt Santana's hand on her arm and thanked the blonde. A friendly smile tugging at her lips, she placed her own hand on top of Santana's and squeezed gently. "My home is yours," she said softly before getting out of the car. "C'mon."

Quinn led her through the house and up the stairs. "You can go and take a shower if you want. I'll set some clothes up and find you a new towel. I just have to let my mom know you're here."

Santana nodded in response to Quinn's offer and decided to take her up on it. It hadn't been a physically tiring day, but she was mentally weary for reasons she couldn't explain to herself and didn't bother to try. Being around Quinn one on one, maybe, when she had been avoiding her, keeping the balance of deception and new honesty with her.

"Yeah, I'll do that," she said, going to get the towels and clothes Quinn had offered and setting herself up. In the shower she took her time, using Quinn's skin care and conditioner, and waited until her fingers were beginning to prune before getting out, dressing in Quinn's clothes and beginning to work on drying and combing out her hair. She rejoined Quinn in her bedroom as she worked through tangles, sitting on her bed.

It had been nice when Brittany would play with her hair or fix it for her, and Santana realized that there was a slight pressure to her chest as she thought about this. Would Brittany still do that? Still working on her hair, she looked up at Quinn.

"I hope things will be okay with Brittany," she blurted.

Quinn nodded before heading to her mom's room, making sure she was still awake. Fortunately Judy was still up, reading a novel on her bed. The younger blonde announced that Santana was staying for the night, mentioning that she was having a few problems at home.

After telling her mom they didn't need anything, she returned to her room just as Santana exited the bathroom. Quinn sat next to her on her bed and reached over, helping her with the tangles in her hair.

Hazel eyes focused onto her, giving her a small, sympathetic smile. "She loves you." Quinn ran her hands through her damp hair, slowly, careful not to pull Santana's hair. "Whatever choice you make here, I'm sure she'd understand." And she hoped she was right. She's watched those two closely for years now and she would have been blind if she couldn't see the deep connection between the two.

As hard as it was to understand Brittany sometimes, Santana understood the taller blonde better than anyone else, and vice versa. Those two always worked something about between each other.

Santana was quiet as Quinn began to fix her hair for her, somewhat soothed by her touch. It wasn't often that she and Quinn did this for each other, if ever, so she knew that this new showing of caring from her was likely an extension of their odd gentleness with each other today. She didn't comment on it, remaining still so as not to discourage her.

Quinn was telling her that Brittany loved her. Santana knew that; that wasn't a question, and until now, hadn't been a problem. But Brittany understanding? Maybe she would…but could she get past it to be okay with it? What if she couldn't? What if she always felt bad and Santana always felt guilty, like a bad person for choosing Rachel instead?

She exhaled, pulling her knees to her chest and sitting on Quinn's bed as she let her continue to tame her hair. After several moments, she said quietly, "I don't know. I chose Rachel. And Brittany is pretty upset."

Quinn paused from untangling her hair to let Santana pull her knees up before continuing again. Her gaze focused on her as she ran her hands through her hair. She thought to herself for a moment, taking a while to think of the whole situation. So she chose Rachel.. In all honestly, Quinn still couldn't understand what her friend saw in the diva, but she guessed that if she was happy, she'd let it be.

"Brittany will learn to accept it and move on," she said, chewing on her lower lip. "She and Rachel both make you happy, but obviously your heart chose Rachel. B can't blame you for that." The blonde then grabbed the hairbrush and brushed Santana's hair gently.

"We're only human, S. We'll fall for those we don't expect to, and we can't exactly tell our hearts to just stop." Quinn took in a deep breath and placed her hand on top of her friend's knee. "Give it some time. Brittany just…needs to take it all in."

Santana thought over what Quinn was saying, still frowning. The other girl had brushed her hair until it fell smoothly over her back and shoulders, and she shook a few strands back from her eyes as she continued to think. When Quinn touched her knee, she looked over at her, surprised. It was really highly unusual for them to touch so much, to be so nice to each other for such a prolonged period, but she couldn't say she didn't like it.

Covering Quinn's hand with hers after a few moments, she squeezed her fingertips, then gave her a small smile before releasing. "Yeah. I just want everything to be like it used to be, but if it was, it wouldn't be like it is now."

Tilting her head towards her, she added, "You really into Sam then?"

Feeling her gentle squeeze, Quinn's smile could only grow a bit bigger. This whole caring gesture between the both of them was something they had to work on. "Life just becomes more of a bitch when time passes," she rolled her eyes.

A small chuckle left her lips at her question. "Sam… He's great, yes. I can say he's been treating me better than Finn and Puck has in our relationship." She pressed her lips together and cocked her head to the side, sending her a questioning look. "And you're really into the little diva you got?"

Santana had to give her that much, anyway. Sam might have a mouth that rivaled Angelina Jolie's or Mick Jagger's, but he was a nice guy, if a bit dim. She hadn't slept with him, but the lip action hadn't been bad.

"More power to you than," she nodded towards Quinn, giving her a small smile. "I guess that's cool then."

When Quinn asked her if she was into Rachel, a faint flush spread over her cheeks, and she looked away. The first instinct she had was to deny it, to shake her head and make a snarky comment. But it wouldn't be true, and it wouldn't be fair to Rachel. So she shrugged, then slowly nodded, breathing out again.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am."

Then, looking up, more fiercely, "So you can't make fun of her anymore or be mean to her, because I'll kick your cellulite ass. No one can make fun of her but me."

Quinn couldn't contain the smirk that reached her lips when Santana decided to look away, but not before she could catch the faint blush on her cheeks. It wasn't every day she could see Santana get so flustered all the time without her denying it. The blonde was surprised she didn't make a remark to that.

"So everyone has to stop making fun of her, except for _you_?" She cocked an eyebrow at her before rolling her eyes. "Award for the best girlfriend goes to Santana Lopez," she said in a sarcastic tone, moving more onto her bed and plopping down onto her back. "How did this all start out again?"

"Yeah, they do. Got a problem with that?" Santana snapped, chin lifted, eyes flashing in challenge now as she looked Quinn head on. But when the other girl made a sarcastic remark about Santana's being a great girlfriend, she flinched inwardly, briefly catching her lower lip between her teeth as she tried to answer Quinn's question nonchalantly.

"Well…I was blackmailing her. Then she sort of found something she could blackmail me with but she didn't…and then I felt sort of…it didn't seem cool to blackmail anymore, so…I don't know, it sort of took on a life of its own. Whatever."

Pausing, she asked more seriously, softer in tone as well, "Quinn, do you really think I suck as a girlfriend?"

This was hardly a typical question from her for Quinn, but then, this wasn't typical day.

Quinn sighed and shook her head at Santana. "No, I don't have a problem with that." She chewed on her lower lip as she thought in her own little bubble for a few seconds. "I'll keep an eye out for Berry. If anyone messes with her when you're not around, I'll make sure they'll regret it." Her eyes closed as she placed her palms under her head and relaxed. "Obviously you love her a lot, so I might as well have both of your backs."

The blonde snickered, peeking an eye open to look at her. "Looks like she knows just how to handle you then. Kudos to her."

A small frown reached her lips at her question, another sigh leaving her lips. "No," she answered simply, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. "No, I don't think you suck as a girlfriend. I mean, I've seen you make your mistakes, but you're not terrible."

Flopping down on her stomach on the bed, Santana buried her face in her arms briefly, then turned her head to the side, looking at Quinn sideway. Her hair partly over her eyes, she was quiet before she responded again, her breathing slow, even, but her eyes distant, her expression bothered.

"I don't know. If I'm not, I'm damn close."


	25. Chapter 25

This had been one hell of a weekend.

First had come the confrontation with Brittany. Telling her that she loved Rachel too, watching Brittany become so upset over it, had drained most of Santana's ability to function. Then her abuela had insulted Quinn and Santana both right in front of Quinn. She had hung out with Quinn but become so uncomfortable with the girl's obvious guilt and pity she had made an excuse to leave. And then she had felt pressured into telling Rachel she loved her, over text, no less.

And now she was going to see Rachel. For the first time since Rachel's hanging out ban. Now that Rachel knew. At Rachel's request.

Santana had no idea what Rachel wanted or expected, or even what she herself did. She knew their typical pattern of behavior with each other with these encounters, and she knew that she was so tired of thinking and feeling and crying that she didn't think she had it in her to do it again today. But Rachel wanted her to come, and so she came. Standing outside her door, she waited for her to come after ringing the doorbell, trying to just not feel…anything.

Fat chance.

Rachel had no idea what she was doing anymore. Her fingers had just moved without her consent, and the next thing she knew she was asking- almost pleading- for Santana to come over.

It was one thing for Santana to say she loved her when completely drunk, but another thing entirely to say it sober… And to admit it to Brittany no less… Did- Did she _actually _mean that much to the Cheerio?

It seemed too hard to believe. So surreal and insane to be true.

But…

Swallowing thickly, drinking the tall glass of water she had gotten herself in only a few gulps to calm (or try to calm) herself down, Rachel nearly jumped and dropped the glass as the doorbell rang.

Scurrying to the door, she paused for a moment, heart beating wildly, taking a breath, then opened the door, stepping to the side a little to allow Santana inside.

Just looking at the taller girl made her stomach flip and chest tighten as the wind was nearly knocked from her lungs. Seeing Santana in the halls over the course of the school day earlier was one thing… But seeing her now, right in front of her, face looking tired but still so beautiful and _real_… It made her mouth dry, and her anxiously fisted the material of her skirt as she felt her palms get sweaty.

"H-Hi…" she finally spoke as she closed the door, voice more hoarse and quiet than she had meant it to be.

Her entire body was trembling, torn between running away, staying still, and throwing her arms around the girl mere feet from her.

Santana could see Rachel shaking. She didn't know if it was nerves or anger or what it was, but it was hard for her to look at. Hard for her to look at Rachel, period.

She had been avoiding looking at her in Glee and their other classes together, because if she was going to do what Rachel asked and separate from her, she couldn't let herself see her too much or she would have a harder time. Seeing her now after all this avoiding was hitting her in the face with her renewed understanding of how she felt towards her, how deeply she had missed her, and she had to drop her eyes briefly before she could look at her and feel somewhat controlled again.

"Hi," she said back, coming in after her. She didn't say anything else, waiting to see what Rachel would do. Subtly she wiped her palms over her legs, hoping Rachel didn't notice that her hands were sweating.

"I missed you," Rachel spoke, almost choking on the words. But God were they true… She could smell Santana's perfume, just a hint of it, and could swear that she could feel the woman's body heat. That was probably an exaggeration, but it_felt _real.

At school, they were ghosts to each other. Didn't make eye contact, didn't speak to each other, didn't sit anywhere even close to the other. The closes they got was during Glee, in rehearsal. That was it. And even then she knew that, like herself, Santana kept the touches as quick and controlled as they could with the chirography.

Stepping a little closer, nerves wracking her body as she let out a shaky breath. "I- I know it's my fault… But… I…"

Rachel didn't know why Santana continued to be surprised by her speechlessness. It seemed that every time she was less than ten feet away from the cheerleader words just didn't know how to leave her throat. "I missed you… _miss _you a lot…"

Santana swallowed down the lump rising to choke her in her throat at Rachel's words, against smoothing her hands over her legs. This was the closest she'd been to Rachel for a week now, and she could barely stand it. She wanted to reach out and pull her close, to forget any efforts at words…

But she also wanted to turn and run out the door. Because Rachel knew how she felt now. And her being here was hurting Brittany, even if Brittany would never know.

She shouldn't say it. She should ask Rachel what she wants and why she's here. But it comes out all the same.

"I…I miss you too."

This time Rachel is positive that the air has been knocked right from lungs, and a strangled whimper is released from her constricted throat as she continued to fight whatever urge her body is having- to run or go closer.

Her mind is racing; she's thinking of herself, she's thinking of Santana, and she's thinking of Brittany. Brittany, who's done some damage herself to Rachel, but not quite in the painfully malicious way that Santana or Quinn managed. The tall, beautiful blonde dancer that should be the only to have Santana's heart, but somehow isn't. Is somehow having to share it will short, plain looking Rachel Berry.

She wonders if the girl cried like she did. She wondered if Brittany had the same thoughts; constantly wondering if she was being compared to Rachel in Santana's head.

But even as her heart squeezes achingly for Brittany, it's beating madly for Santana, and finally, she can't stop herself, and she breaks.

"I- I'm… I'm going to hug you now…" Rachel whispers, words and movements hesitant. She finally, slowly, closes the distant between her and the girl in front her, wraps her arms around her neck, and hugs her tightly, burying her face into the crook of Santana's neck and shoulder. The second they're touching, Santana's perfume and shampoo washing over her, all at once Rachel's body is relaxing and shivering, every sensation doubling in its intensity and yet, clicking. Everything feels like it's clicking into place, and she can't figure out how she ever went nearly four days without this.

It was exactly what she had wanted, exactly what she hadn't let herself think even to herself, not while she was standing there with it actually a possibility. For the first couple of days Santana had ached for Rachel to touch her again, even just to hold her hand or put a hand on her back. She had tried to make up for the loss of it through Brittany, and she always enjoyed touching Brittany, but it was Rachel in particular she had missed.

She had missed the way Rachel in particular felt in her arms, the way Rachel's eyes were so soft and her smile so wide when she looked at her, like she thought Santana was every bit as special as she thought she herself was. She had missed Rachel's voice, the same voice that had once annoyed the hell out of her. She had missed the way she moved and just…everything. She had missed her, and when Rachel puts her arms around her, her face in her shoulder, Santana feels something cracking in her heart. She gnaws the insides of her cheeks, feeling herself shiver as she closes her arms around Rachel, holding her back just as fiercely.

It feels right, somehow, to be here with her, to hug her and be held by her. How can it feel so right when she knows in her head it has to be wrong?

She realized, as Santana's hold tightened around her and Rachel was able to take a long, deep breath, why she felt more alive and aware now than she had in days.

Being with Santana, touching her, being near her at all, felt like breathing.

Or, perhaps, remembering how to breathe after one has a panic attack, or is over stressed, or scared.

This… This simple act of just hugging the taller girl was calming, and grounding, and somehow had become so important to helping her keep herself together that she wondered if this was the difference between loving yourself and… and perhaps loving another.

Rachel knew she could function without Santana. She knew that, given space and time, she'd move on, and eventually she'd be okay. She knew that.

But there was such this huge, unbelievable difference between functioning (surviving) and feeling _alive_.

And that's what Santana did, she knew. Santana made her feel alive. Whether it was by crying, screaming, or laughing, the girk brought out every single emotion inside of her, even when she didn't want her to.

All these thoughts clamored in her head, and yet she felt more at peace than she had for awhile. As she gripped the back of Santana's shirt tighter, Rachel let out a deep breath slowly, finally letting her body truly relax into Santana's hold.

It was strange, how it felt like they were already somehow communicating. They'd barely said a few sentences, yet just this hug made Rachel feel like Santana was telling her a thousand things. It would have been overwhelming, had it not been so_right_.

"I'm sorry…" she murmured into Santana's skin. "I'm sorry for hurting you. I just don't know what else to do." Her voice was still small, even a little scared. Not of Santana- she hadn't been truly scared of Santana for awhile, but of what the girl could say, how she might react. "All I know is that without things are okay, but with you things are _better_. Everything is just _better_. And my teddy bear can't hold me like you do."

Maybe she was saying too much, but Santana had already laid herself open.  
Rachel wasn't going to hold back until Santana told her to stop.

Santana closed her eyes briefly, not releasing her hold, just breathing in Rachel's scent, soaking up the feel of her closeness and savoring every moment. Her shaking lessened, than stopped as she relaxed against her, noticing that it happened to occur about the same time that she felt Rachel relax too. The fierceness of her hold of the girl softened, becoming a more gentle, leaning embrace instead of a clutching grip, and she slowly kneaded her thumb between Rachel's shoulder blades.

It was an automatic gesture, the very instinctiveness of it somewhat surprising. Rachel was talking, and Santana tried to pull her thoughts together into something coherent enough to listen, to hold back feelings enough to let logic try its hand in controlling her.

Something about her holding better than a teddy bear- a typically Rachel comment, one Santana would normally roll her eyes at, but that brought a small smile to her lips. She missed even her dorky analogies.

She knew Rachel missed her, even wanted her. And god she missed her. But one thing preyed on her thoughts, something she had not heard from her. Something she needed to know.

She knew Brittany loved her. She loved Brittany, and Brittany loved her, and the equation should be simple and end right there.

But she knew now, understood more fully now, in Rachel's arms, than she'd wanted to even to tell herself, that she loved Rachel. What she didn't know was if Rachel loved her.

Missing her, wanting her, feeling hurt because Santana hadn't chosen her, wasn't the same as loving her. And if Santana had to make a choice…could she even consider choosing someone who didn't?

"Rachel," she said softly, into her shoulder, and then with a deep inhalation, she lifted her face, looking her in the eye and pulling back slightly. She bit her lower lip unconsciously before steeling herself to continue. "I need to know…if you love me."

The words felt stupid and weak in her mouth, like she was leaving herself naked and small and entirely open to hurt in front of her. But she had to know.

The moment the question left Santana's mouth, all of Rachel's fears came rushing back. She looked down, body going tense and eyes slamming shut to keep her tears back. This was it. This was where she lost her chance with Santana for good.

But she needed to be honest. Santana deserved all her honesty, because the girl had been so openly honest with her.

Breathing out slowly, opening her eyes but looking down at the floor, Rachel tried to think of how to say what she needed, and in the end, did the only thing she knew how in these situations- she rambled.

"I…" she swallowed thickly, "I haven't let myself." Taking a small step back, feeling more exposed than ever, Rachel wrapped her arms around herself and continued. "I've been so scared, so terrified, that I haven't let myself let it happen. N-not… Not- I mean. I mean, I could. I could fall in love with you so easily. I think I do a little more every day, no matter how hard I try to stop it. B-but to say it… You- you and Brittany are so much more brave than I am." Her arms tightened, and she knew she was going to cry, she could feel it.

"I keep waiting for the ball to drop," Rachel went on, voice already getting thick. "Because what happens if I say those words, and you choose Brittany- _again_? Or I say them, and you realize that in another month or so, I'm too high maintenance?" It was so stupid, she knew. Here was Santana, openly willing to say that she loved Rachel the same way she loved Brittany, despite only knowing the smaller girl for real for all of a month or so, and yet Rachel was too scared to do the same.

Tears slowly beginning to escape the corners of her eyes, Rachel shook her head, wiping at them fiercely. "I- I guess I just… I could love you, Santana Lopez. If I let myself. If given a real chance. I could- I could take that step, and say the words. But right now…," another harsh, audible swallow, "Right now I'm not brave enough. I'm scared. I'm scared that if I jump, I'll just end up crashing, and breaking."

Rachel was quiet then, internally cursing herself over and over again for being so cautious, for not wanting a repeat of the Finn fiasco, for just not being brave enough to take the chance.

But how could she, when during the whole time she had been with Santana she had always known that, eventually, the girl would leave her for Brittany? And Santana_had _left, _had _chosen the blonde. But then… Then she had come back, in a way… And Rachel didn't know what to do with that. She didn't understand the idea of someone coming back like that, for _her_.

"I'm sorry I can't be as brave as you yet," she whispered, finally looking up at Santana, steeling herself for the worst.

Santana bit her lip, pulling back from Rachel enough to be able to look at her more fully, needing to separate herself physically to try to get herself together emotionally. It was hard to listen to the emotion in her voice, to see her tears and hear how Rachel was afraid- afraid of HER, of what she might do to her. It was hard to see that she was in such turmoil over something that should be simple and freeing and beautiful, instead of confusing and painful and scary as it had been so far.

She could understand that Rachel was hesitant, after how she had been with her. It made perfect sense. Hell, if she were Rachel, why would she ever trust or want to be with Santana?

But it still hurt to hear her basically tell her that she either didn't or couldn't love her, or that if she did, she couldn't say it out loud. It felt like a hand squeezing tight around her heart, a weight pressing against her lungs, and Santana nodded, blinking back tears of her own as she tried to accept it.

The choice should be obvious then. Rachel was too afraid to love her. Brittany loved her right here, right now. Clearly Brittany was the one she should choose.

Then why did the prospect of walking away now make her really have to struggle not to cry?

Taking a shuddering breath, heart squeezing, Rachel decided that if she stopped talking now, she'd never have the chance to get the words out again. "It's…" she took a moment to breathe, then went on.

"This… This is what I do know, Santana," she started. "I know that when I see you in the halls, even when it's with Brittany, my heart flutters and skips a beat, and I forget to breathe. When I wasn't letting myself near you, I felt like I was gutting myself, and no matter how many blankets I wrapped myself in they weren't as warm as being held by you. Talking to you makes my whole day. I never realize how anxious I am to hear your voice until I do, and then it's the best music in the world."

Rachel's heart had started to speed up again, but she couldn't keep her eyes off Santana this time, even if the tears wouldn't stop and her body kept shaking with raw emotion. "When you hold my hand, I just… Everything feels okay again. I feel stronger. Like I could get slushied a hundred times and as long as you were there to hold my hand it wouldn't matter. And… when I kiss you…" she swallowed, "When I kiss you, it feels like breathing. Like I'm remembering how to breathe after almost drowning."

Wiping away strays tears, taking a deep breath, Rachel let her arms fall to her sides. "I know that I care about you more than I can bear sometimes, and that when I see you upset or hurting it hurts me, too. And… And that I'd rather fall asleep with you as friends, even if it kills me inside, than to never know how that feels again."

She bit her lip, and let out a rush of air. "So… So maybe I can't say the words… Not yet… But… I think- no. I know I feel them, every day, all the time, and it's scary, and I'm terrified, but I don't want it to stop. I wouldn't even know how to stop it anymore."

What Rachel had told her…it was something Santana could never have imagined hearing about herself, could never have imagined someone capable of feeling towards her. For her to mean so much to someone, to affect them so deeply…it seemed incredible to her, impossible. Especially someone like Rachel, who was obviously a much better person, Rachel who she had never deserved. Rachel, who a small part of her had always been jealous of, for being so talented, so smart, and so very certain of who she was.

For Rachel to feel that way about HER…to say those things, and mean them as only Rachel could…how could she handle knowing that and still walk away?

And yet how could she walk away from Brittany, the only person who had ever told her in plain words that she loved her and meant it?

A few tears spilled over, and Santana wiped them hastily, sucking in several shallow breaths in an effort to compose herself. She didn't know what to say, what to do or what to think. Wiping at her eyes again, she just reached out, almost blindly, and grasped for Rachel's hand.

Rachel didn't hesitate to take Santana's hand between both of hers, bringing the knuckles up to her lips to kiss them softly, like she had so many times before this. She held the hand tightly, resting her forehead against them for a moment to compose herself, taking deep breaths in and out, determined not to make this another sob fest no matter how much she wanted to let loose.

She just felt everything too intensely when it came to Santana, she decided. For better of for worse, but she couldn't bring herself to give it up yet.

Finally, when Rachel was sure that she wouldn't burst out crying just by looking at the taller girl, she let out a deep sigh, and did so, keeping her small hands around Santana's. "Whatever happens, Santana… Whatever you choose, I'm not going anywhere, okay? I might need a little space, I might need some time, but I'm not leaving, or going to disappear. Not unless you want me to. You were friend before I fell for you, and that won't change."

Stepping in a little closer, squeezing the hand in hers softly, she shrugged. "I know I'm not very brave, but I am strong. So I'll say it again; as long as you're_ happy_, I can be happy, too. Whether it's with me, Brittany, or whoever else."

Santana nodded, not yet trusting herself to speak. She squeezed Rachel's hand back, needing to physically anchor herself to the other girl as added reassurance to herself that she was indeed not going anywhere. But Rachel's words were comforting as well.

Rachel wouldn't leave her totally, even if she did choose Brittany. Rachel would still be her friend. And even though she still hadn't spelled it out right, she had said she had fallen for her. And that meant she loved her, didn't it?

"I want you to be happy too," she managed after a few moments. Then, "You are brave. Maybe not like some people. But…you are. You just are. More than anyone. The way you are, and…the way you live…you are, Rachel."

Chuckling despite herself, unsure how to answer that, Rachel just squeezed Santana's hand again. "Thank you, Santana. You're a really good person. You are. And… And if nothing else, I _am _happy that I got to see this side of you. I'm happy we're friends. And if that's all we ever are, I'll still be happy. I promise, okay?"

As though to solidify her point, Rachel tugged on Santana's hand, then let it go, wrapping her arms around the taller girl's neck once again in a tight, firm hug. She breathed deeply, letting herself soak up the feeling for all it was worth, before drawing back just enough to look at Santana's face.

Then, rising up on her toes a bit. she kissed Santana's cheek and tucked some stray strands of hair behind her ear, smiling softly and shaking her head. "Though I'm not sure I'll ever get used to looking at you," she admitted quietly. "It's unreal how beautiful you are all the time. Even when you wake up cranky and complain about how cold I am."

Good person was stretching it to the breaking point, if you asked Santana, if describing herself, but she didn't argue. Instead she accepted Rachel's hug, tightening her arms around her just as firmly, and drew away only reluctantly when Rachel pulled back. Waiting to see what she was doing, she was surprised by her kiss and smiled slightly, her lips remaining faintly curved upward as the girl went on.

"I'm not cranky…and you are cold. You're a friggin icicle. You gotta wear some socks or something," she replied, her tone somewhat teasing. "I don't know how you're so hot in the day and so cold at night."

Realizing that could be a double meaning, she laughed a little, shaking her head, then reached out, lightly tracing Rachel's nose to the tip.

"You're crazy. But…you're always like that. Not crazy….well, actually that too. But…you're kind of beautiful in a really…different, you way. Like…it works for you even though it wouldn't for most people, and even if you try to mess it up with your clothes. That's what throws people off. That, and the way you bop around being a loudmouthed type A personality who bosses everyone around," she couldn't resist adding. "But…you're still beautiful. I guess we all sort of miss it."

Smiling a little stronger, Rachel raised her eyebrow. "You are cranky. And I theorize that the only reason my body cools off so much is because your temperature increases. It's utterly ridiculous how hot you get under the covers—_and you know what I mean so don't even dare make that dirty_. My point is, it's your fault."

Then, grinning, she looked down shyly as her face went red, and she took a moment to absorb the rest of the girl's words. Finally, biting her lip and internally rolling her eyes at the words she was about to say, she spoke,

"And… Gosh I can't believe I'm going to say this… I'm okay with no one noticing me up until now, because you did, you do, and you're the only one I really care about when it comes to that." Then, as though to lessen the sheer corniness of it all, she added. "I mean except for directors or agents or something, of course. But that's neither here nor now so…"

She was positive her face had gotten more red, but Rachel already knew it was impossible to keep her mouth shut when she was this close to Santana.

"Anyone would want to kill someone who wakes up singing and dancing at five am, that's not cranky, that's just called sane," Santana shot back, now smiling more fully in spite of the banter. "And how the hell does that make sense? If I'm hot you should be hot…and you know I'm not letting that lay, Ridiculously hot, huh? Less clothes on the hotter I get, it's a simple mathmatical equation."

She became more serious though at Rachel's final words, her smile softening. It was difficult then not to step forward to kiss her on the lips rather than the cheek or forehead or hand, and so she just smiled, telling herself to stay put even as she itched to move forward.

"If I did your hair and makeup and clothes, people would be blown away. You should let me some time."

Choosing to ignore the first part, because Santana would only make it more dirty and she was already blushing, Rachel just shrugged. "What would be the point?" she asked. "The only one I'd want to impress is you." She slid her hands down Santana's arms and took her hands again, swinging them idly in between them.

"Besides, then I'd have to deal with all the jocks leering at me, and as interesting as it would be see how _you_ react to that, I know I get enough looks from my skirts. I don't need them staring at my chest, too." Then she smirked, raising her brow again. "Unless that's your actual plan here. Admit it, you want to dress me up for your own benefit, not mine or the McKinley population's."

It was nice to be able to banter like this, more lightheartedly. There was always the shadow of "but what about…?", but Rachel refused to let her head go there.

She had missed Santana, and being able to talk back and forth like this. It would end soon enough, but it didn't have to be now.

Santana looked down at her hands, now held in Rachel's and swinging back and forth like a little kid's, somewhat bemused, but allowing her to do it, not actually minding, silly as it looked. She smirked back at Rachel, mirroring her expression as she continued to tease, but she was partly serious as well.

"You got me. Now that you've got my number I can forget about just putting you in sexy clothes and hang you a friggin negligee. Sounds pretty hot."

She doubted Rachel had one, but she was sure she could whip up something to suit her purposes if the girl took her seriously. Santana was a spontaneous girl.

She actually snorted at that, rolling her eyes hard. "You're completely incorrigible, Santana Lopez. You'd probably take me shopping just so that you stare at me in clothing or lingerie."

Deciding that they had been standing in the entryway far too long, Santana slowly began pulling Santana along with her into the living room. "Though I suppose I'm curious now. How would you manage to keep your hands off, hm? And maybe you shouldn't be giving me ideas. I might just have a talk with Kurt, and the next thing you know I'll be strutting down the halls in a little black dress, chest pushed out and wearing three inch heels. I'm told heels make my legs look fantastic."

Rachel stopped moving then, right in front of the couch, then sat down, still keeping her hands in Santana's and looking up at her, waiting for her to sit if she chose to. "Frankly, Santana, I'm not sure you could handle me." She words and the shrug that followed them were casual, but the blush spreading down her neck was anything but.

Santana had to admit the idea had crossed her mind, and she didn't think it was a bad one at all. She maintained her smirk as she let Rachel lead her into the living room, picturing this in her head. She had yet to see Rachel unclothed, at least outside of Glee practices, which hardly counted when she couldn't look at her in more than a glance or two.

Rachel's description of herself in such an outfit was an interesting one, and Santana nodded, her eyes lighting up at the image forming in her head. She was still teasing, but half meaning it took as she replied, "Now why would I try to keep my hands off, exactly? By the way, three inch heels would just make you an approximately normal height so no point in that…and as for handling you?"

She let her voice drop, releasing Rachel's hands, and walked her fingers slowly up her arm and across her collar bone, looking her in the eye as she dropped her voice's volume and pitch. "I don't think you could handle ME if I saw you like that."

"Normal height or not, my legs would still look incredible," she shot back, throat going dry as she felt fingers burn a trail up her arm and across her clavicles.

"And who says I'd let you touch?" she asked, voice getting breathier all on its own. "Maybe I'd just want to torture you like that." Eyes fluttering, Rachel didn't even believe herself. It didn't take much for Santana to have her melting; a look, the right tone of voice, and Rachel was pretty much putty in her hands.

She wasn't sure how it was possible for someone to have so much power over her in that way (certainly no one else had ever come close), but she couldn't pretend it wasn't intoxicating.

Licking her lips unconsciously, meeting Santana's eyes. "Maybe I could make you beg, even. Have you say please before I let you touch me?" Rachel also wasn't sure when her voice had gotten that certain, challenging husk to it, but it had, and she could swear she _felt _her eyes darken.

"Hm, are you sure about that? You'll have to demonstrate…prove it…and there's gotta be less clothes on them for me to see for sure," Santana deadpanned, even as she stepped closer, lifting one foot to lightly rub against Rachel's ankle.

She swallowed, her skin warming, beginning to tingle slowly even without yet being touched back by the girl, just hearing her talk like that, in that deeper, sexier voice she had never heard from her before. If Rachel started talking like that every day, Santana wouldn't be able to control herself and she would have no choice to make at all.

Even as the thought flitted through her head she tried to push it away. This was about now, not later, not a choice. This was just…now. Right now.

"I can make you beg," she whispered, dropping her voice as low and deep as Rachel's as she continued to stroke her fingers over her collarbone, up her throat, and then across her lips. She paused them on her lips, taking a step closer, but didn't progress further. Yet.

A shiver running up her spine, Rachel continued to look up at Santana from where she sat on the couch, eyes flitting to the girl's chest for a moment before going back to her eyes, and, unconsciously, her lips parted a little, lightly sucking on Santana's finger as her breathing became more shallow.

She almost nodded, feeling dazed as that last sentence echoed in her head, Santana's smokey tone and dark eyes shooting straight through her. Heat went straight to her core, and Rachel already knew that the blush that had been down her neck was making its way down past her neckline.  
Instead, she swallowed thickly, trying to get back some of her control.

"Pretty confident for someone who's only done it once…" she forced out, tone a lot stronger than she felt. She was so glad she had already been sitting, otherwise her knees might have given out on her the moment the words "make you beg" had left Santana's mouth.

But it immediately made her thoughts go back to that night Santana had kept her up till nearly 5am, driving her into multiple climaxes, in waves upon waves without ever going under her underwear, until she had been nothing but a shaking mess of pleasure and had passed out. It made her thighs clench, and Rachel wasn't even ashamed to admit that since that night she had definitely been wondering exactly what Santana could do if Rachel let her really touch…

But she had definitely been begging that night. For more, for less, for Santana to stop (when she felt too sensitive), only for her to demand the girl never stop (when Santana knew to push her past the sensitivity and back into the pleasure).

Santana wouldn't have thought she could get erotic pleasure out of someone sucking her finger, but apparently anything was possible in that department with Rachel Berry. She swallowed, trying to maintain full composure, to keep Rachel from seeing that she was all affected as she shifted closer to her, watching her reaction to her words. Rachel was flushing, almost squirming, and even as she challenged her back, Santana knew she had hit her mark.

"I'm sure an encore would keep up my rep," she murmurred, deliberately keeping her voice pitched low as she shifted still closer, letting her knee come into contact with Rachel's leg. The hand on Rachel's lip drifted over her cheek, tucking hair behind her ear, and then down her throat again, stopping over her chest and pressing flat, to feel her heartbeat. "Your body is already begging without you saying a word."

Rachel breathed in sharply, body betraying her further as her heart seemed to try to hammer its way right out of her chest at the contact of Santana's hand.

This wasn't okay. What about Brittany? Were they still dating? On break? Broken up until a decision was made? She couldn't just help Santana cheat, but- but-

Shuddering, closing her eyes and breathing out slowly, Rachel whimpered as she forced herself to move away from Santana, shifting to the side on the couch more and out of the girl's reach. Her body was already missing the contact, and there wasn't a single part of her that didn't just want to lay herself out and practically say please.

But she _couldn't_. Not when there was still Brittany to think about it.

And oh how she hated her conscious in that moment.

"We- We should cool down," she stuttered, looking at Santana with still dark eyes and flushed skin. "I- I'm s-sorry. I shouldn't- I should know better. I mean- I shouldn't have-_ I want to_ but-" Her words were all over the place, and she had to cross her legs because she had definitely been getting really aroused and it was ridiculous. "Two more seconds and I would have been stripping for you and that's probably not the right thing to do right now," she finally rushed out, then nearly smacked her forehead in embarrassment.

When exactly did her brain disconnect from her mouth so badly?

On one hand, Santana felt rather pleased with herself that she obviously affected Rachel so much, that a few words and light touches, and the girl was reduced to almost panting. She was more than a little disappointed when Rachel pulled away, starting to babble something about not doing this, and wanted to start forward, pull her to her feet, and start from the top.

But…she was right. Rachel was the one being responsible about this, and it was wrong. She was supposed to be making decisions. She was supposed to be thinking about Rachel and Brittany both, and here she was again, pushing it aside AGAIN, teasing Rachel and hurting Brittany. She really did suck.

Brittany's tearful face came to her mind, and she backed away, hugging her elbows against herself as her mood quickly became more sober. Looking down, she nodded, dropping all seductiveness. "Sorry. I'll…that wasn't fair."

Standing up, gently removing Santana's arms from around herself and taking her hands, she offered a reassuring smile. "It's my fault, too. I wasn't exactly putting up any real fight."

Sighing a little, Rachel mentally shook off the residual affects of the teasing, and straightened up a little. "Right then. Would you like to stay and watch a movie with me? Or would you prefer to leave? I'll understand if you'd like to go, especially with what just happened, but I'm asking anyway."

Her fathers still wouldn't be home for awhile, both working rather late, and she really had missed spending time with Santana- awkwardness aside. But she would also definitely understand if the Latina wanted to leave. After all, they had essentially been a few seconds away from… something, and with everything going on they definitely need to keep some space between them, so to speak.

And then… "…Have you… been eating? And um… keeping…it?" she asked slowly. Rachel had been wondering if she should bring it up, but she supposed it was best to do so while Santana was in front of her.

Santana gave her a small smile when Rachel took her hands, not pulling them away, though she felt at first as though she should, to try to keep herself in check if nothing else. Still, it was still nice to have some kind of contact with her, so she let Rachel hold her hands, at least for a few moments.

"I want to stay," she said after a few moments' though, repeating to herself with some determination that she was not, NOT going to do anything other than watch the movie. Maybe some light cuddling- maybe. That was all. Friends. Friends friends friends FRIENDS….they do that. Right?

Okay she and Quinn didn't do that. But Quinn was kind of a bitch and so was Santana so…

As they started towards the living room, Rachel just had to make things weird though, asking about her eating and "keeping" it. Santana was tempted to just nod and brush her off, but she knew the girl would see through it and pester her more, maybe even start lecturing about lying and honesty on top of the health lecture she already was going to have to suffer through. Keeping her face averted, she shrugged, brushing it off as quickly as she could.

"I ate with Quinn at Breadstix yesterday."

Which totally did not answer the question whatsoever, giving a single example of eating without actually clarifying whether she "kept it.". But maybe that would satisfy her.

Nodding, biting her lip a little, Rachel decided to not push much further, except for, "Alright. I'm glad you two are getting a long again, sort of. Would you like a small snack now?" At least, she decided, she could keep offering Santana food whenever it was appropriate. At this point she didn't feel like the girl would run away from her if Rachel brought it up, and she definitely couldn't keep her mouth shut completely now.

"Dad made Chicken Alfredo. It was for himself, but there's a lot of extra and he wouldn't mind you having a little if you'd like. Also, what movie would you like?" she continued to speak, finally letting go of Santana's hands, keeping her smile in place.

She felt better than she had for awhile, even with the hiccup that was her mentioning Santana's eating.

Rachel really thought she was smooth, didn't she? Like Santana wouldn't notice that if she didn't outright lecture, she had still managed to plug in "eat something" seemingly casually into their interaction. It was sort of sweet in a way, that she was trying to be understanding while still worrying, but that didn't mean Santana was oblivious.

Santana considered seriously saying yes for a few moments. She did love chicken alfredo. But it had that creamy sauce stuff to think about, and if she started getting antsy worrying about it with Rachel, it would be embarrassing if she had to jump up and do something about it. Then Rachel would really be all over her and just no.

It was true that she had never deliberately made herself vomit when she was around Rachel, that she had never even really thought about it while with her unless she was already upset and crying. But she didn't want to take the chance.

"Nope, not hungry," she said as breezily as she could manage. "Uh, you seen Repo the Genetic opera?"

It was an opera, sure to intrigue Rachel…but also freaking gory. And half naked dancing girls was a plus too.

Just nodding, already thinking of ways she could maybe offer Santana a lighter snack later, Rachel almost didn't catch what Santana had said in return about the movie, but when she did she froze, stared at the girl for a moment, then, slowly, her smile turned into an excited, wide-eyed grin.

"Oh… my… God… I _love that movie!_" She hands clapped together excitedly, and she actually started to bounce on her feet a little. "Anthony Stewart is_incredible!_ And Alexa Vega? I admit that I was definitely surprised given her previous roles in the Spy Kids movies and never expected she could sing in such a way but- Oh goodness let me get my dvd! I'll be right back!"

With another squeal of excitement she quickly hugged Santana, then practically ran up the stairs to her room to grab the movie.

Santana blinked, more than a little startled by the enthusiasm of Rachel's reaction. For one thing, she hadn't expected the girl to have seen it, but then, it had opera in the title, after all, and this was Rachel. But then for her to not only get through it in one piece but to LOVE it? Totally bizarre.

She laughed as Rachel hugged her and skipped off, teasing when she returned, "I thought you couldn't stand blood and guts and gore. I have totally corrupted you beyond all return. No, I know what it is, you just have a thing for Paris." Imitating the breathy voice of the woman, she started to sway her hips back and forth, arms over her head, imitating her sexy gyration. "Grave robberrrr….I can't feel nothin' at all…."

Rachel paused for a moment, about to answer until Santana began… well…_moving_, and her brain fried for a couple of seconds as her eyes zeroed in on the girl's hips and she swallowed thickly, face flushing just from the tone Santana was using…

Physically shaking her head and clearing her throat, Rachel replied. "For one, I don't like meaningless gore— this has a point. And honestly is so overly done that it's hard to take it too seriously. Though I do look away at some parts," she said, voice still a little strained as she put the movie in and turned the TV on. "Secondly, the singing is _fantastic_, the story is absolutely heartbreaking, AND, sweetie, I hate to say it but 90% of Broadway will crush your spirit if you let it. There aren't many happy endings in theatre. Usually everyone dies tragically."

Skipping to the couch, grabbing a blanket, she plopped down after wrapping it around her and opened up part of it in offer to Santana. "I'm mostly here for Anthony Stewart's voice and acting. And for the music and plot. Though Paris Hilton is half-way almost decent. Not to mention the role suits her, considering she's actually made of plastic in real life as well."

"It does not have a point!" Santana laughs, actually distracted from her dancing to argue. "It's completely over the top and lame but awesome gore. Like most horror. You're just weird, Berry. And my spirit? Pretty crush free."

So maybe that wasn't the most truthful wording considering that she actually had two "crushes" currently that were pretty damn painful. But whatever.

She hadn't failed to notice Rachel calling her sweetie, for the third or fourth time now that she could remember. It was weird, but she sort of liked it. It was spunky in a weird way, almost with an edge, the way it sounded in Rachel's different from how Brittany said it, the only other person who had ever used the term with her.

She wasn't thinking about Brittany, though.

"Yeah Anthony's alright for an old guy," Santana agreed, joining Rachel on the couch and wrapping the blanket around herself, automatically settling in close. It was something that would have once been totally weird but now just seemed expected. Why would they sit on a couch and not sit close? "I liked him in Buffy. You seen that? They had one musical episode. I was always into Faith."

Not to mention the obvious lesbian subtext between Faith and Buffy. Not to mention the later lesbianism of Willow, Tara, and Kennedy, who was also quite hot herself.

Scooting in a little to rest against Santana's body, head on her shoulder, Rachel rolled her eyes again. "No. There _is _a point to the gore. He's a repoman. It's his job. And it's his job because of Rotti and how his wife died. So there." Smiling, easily relaxing into Santana's side, she shrugged at the mention of Buffy.

"I admit, I could never quite get into it. I enjoy it, but I was always sort of a Charmed fan myself. From what I did watch, though, Buffy was rather well-written and a good female character. Faith… I don't know. Maybe if I watched it now I could appreciate her more." It didn't help that parts of Faith's personality had reminded her of the Latina next to her that used to bully her…

"Anyway, movie time now. Also, when I sing, you can't get mad. At all. You chose this movie, after all." Smiling brightly, tucking her legs under her, Rachel sighed in contentment as the open sequence finally ended and the movie truly began.

"Yeah, they gotta make up a story to explain it, but it still doesn't mean anything. They just like gore," Santana continued to argue, wrapping her arm around Rachel's waist automatically and leaning her head against Rachel's. "Gore and dancing half naked girls. My kind of movie."

"Charmed…eh, that Phoebe girl was kind of hot, but the show was lame and goody two shoes, no edge to it," she shrugged, then grinned. "Figures you'd go for it, Berry. You gotta watch Buffy,that's next on our list. Come on, you can't watch the Faith episodes, especially on Angel, and not like her or there's something wrong with you."

Of course, though she wouldn't say so, she rather strongly identified with Faith- a bullying bad girl who fought her way back to redemption, who clearly wasn't exactly straight, who was known as a skank and bitch and who never quite seemed to get close to anyone, no matter how much she secretly wanted it. A girl who made mistakes, serious ones, but was still seen as talented and worthy in the end.

A girl like Santana. A girl she could be, one day. Maybe.

Settling against Rachel, Santana watched the movie, truly relaxing for the first time in days.

**Dear "guest": Nope, sorry. I am not taking this out of the Brittana tag- which, by the way, I didn't tag this as anything, I simply indicated that both Santana and Brittany are in this story, which they are- and not only because of your repeated rudeness in your anonymous reviews. Again- as your six messages to me finally warrant me to respond- I did not tag this as anything. I simply listed the main characters in the story's properties. I also indicated in the story's description that it was a Pezberry with SOME Brittana. Some. As in not the entire story, not the entire focus, briefly. Therefore, telling me off for this being a Pezberry indicates you do not know how to properly read. Also, telling me that "no one wants to read this crappy story" is obviously false given the number of follows and reviews. You, however, do not have to read it. I invite you simply not to read a Pezberry story if you do not like Pezberry.**

**And your comment about my "story being shit" and your comment that I'm a c*** who should kill myself? You're obviously a. a coward, since you won't log in under your own name where I could report you for breaking site rules b. unaware of my 79 followers c. a complete moron under the delusion that they are clever, witty, or hurtful. Blow up my reviews all you want, you will get no other response from me.**

**To all you other reviewers, thank you very much, your comments are appreciated. To the few who have commented on the confusing format, I do apologize but as it was cowritten this is the style it was written in.**


	26. Chapter 26

Author notes: Thanks everyone for the sweet comments and support :) It looks like the rude guest reviewer- particularly the triggering comments- have been removed by site before I could even figure out how to do it myself, so it's no longer a problem. To any guests who are posting as guest who were not rude or downright mean, know none of that was directed at you and I appreciate your thoughts.

With 45 minutes until show time for sectionals, Rachel was dressed and ready to go, anxiously waiting with the rest of New Directions in the auditorium as people began to sit down and the show choirs did the same.

Having been drinking tea all morning, it didn't surprise her that she needed to use the restroom, and with a hurried whisper to to tell him that she'd be back soon, Rachel left the auditorium and made her way down the hall to the nearest girl's bathroom, not noticing the figure of someone following her out, too hurried to relieve herself.

Five minutes later she was washing her hands, and with a smile Rachel straightened up to check her hair. Just then the door swung open, and the girl turned to see a girl from a rival school. They were a newer group, having just started up, and Rachel didn't recognize the girl at all. She was fairly tan, with dirty blonde hair and a smile that… unnerved the Co-Captain of the New Directions quite a bit.

"Oh, hello there," Rachel spoke. "I was just leaving. Good luck out there," she said, moving to go around the slightly taller girl. she was stopped by a hand to her chest, and suddenly pushed up against the wall. Breath hitching as she gasped in surprise, eyes narrowing, Rachel opened her mouth to speak, only for the girl to cover her mouth with her hand and press her body against Rachel's own. Then she spoke.

"You're Rachel Berry, right? Leader of the Crude Erections or whatever?" Rachel glared, but the girl kept speaking. "Heard you was gay now, like your daddies. Also heard you was ugly as fuck, but you look pretty hot."

The hand that wasn't over Rachel's mouth was suddenly gripping her thigh under her dress, hard, and Rachel shoved hard.

The girl, however, didn't move much, instead moving her other hand to grab Rachel's hair. "Oh come on, don't be that way. Not like anyone else is gonna look at you, with that beak. Come on. We got time. Promise to make it real good for you…"

Then the hand on Rachel's thigh moved up just as the girl went in for a kiss, and with every bit of her strength (which was a lot more than people expected, she knew) Rachel screamed "Get OFF ME!" as she gave another, much harder shove, finally dislodging the girl, sending her stumbling back against the stalls behind her.

Breathing hard and uneven, Rachel's eyes were wild, both in fear and anger. "Leave. _Now. _Or I will report you and have you banned from competing for good. I know you barely have the required member count. Your whole team will be out of the competition."

The girl, however, just smirked, stepping up to Rachel a little, and the diva pressed herself against the wall, nostrils flaring. "You think anyone would believe you? I've heard _a lot _about you, Rachel Berry. Total diva, drama queen, center of attention. Even heard that that hot cheerleader was bored enough to fuck you for awhile. Thank God she wised up and went for the blonde instead. The point is, everyone will just think you're looking for attention. Like always, right?"

Snorting, the other girl shrugged, heading for the door. "But whatever. You'd probably be a terrible lay anyway. Besides, I hate sloppy seconds. Feels too trashy." The door swung open, then closed, and Rachel was left alone in the bathroom.

Her heart was still hammering, the inside of her thigh burning, and she was positive there was a bruise there.

She felt… She felt _dirty. _All over her skin was crawling, and as she wrapped her arms around herself and slumped down against the wall, body trembling. In her anger it had been easy to just glare and take whatever the girl had been saying. But now, as she was left by herself, the feeling of the girl against her and touching her, she couldn't keep her breathing straight, and the words echoed over and over in her head.

With shaking hands, not even having time to process what she was doing, she took her phone from the small pocket on the side of the dress, and barely managed to hit the 'call' button on Santana's name.

The first time it went to voicemail, and she wondered if Santana was with Brittany. Maybe making out before the show, or even just holding pinkies, enjoying company. "_Sloppy seconds" _ran through her head again and again, and her shaking increased.

Deciding to try again, still dazed, on the second ring the phone picked up, and she heard Santana's voice on the other end. She couldn't speak for a moment, though, just let out a shuddering, broken up breath. Finally, "S-santana- I- Please. I just- Something happened. B—bath-bathroom. Please. I need- I- I- I need y-you."

Rachel curled further into herself, legs tight and closed.

Everything was hitting her all at once, and for the life of her she just could not get the feeling of hands on her. It wouldn't go away, and she needed Santana.

88

Santana got nervous before shows.

She never said it, and she tried her best not to show it, but to someone who knew her well, it would be obvious. She got snappier and shorter tempered, much more restless and active, wanting to pace and wave her hands and fiddle with things. She obsessed over her clothes and her hair and her makeup and her body, sure that it would never look good enough and that the second she got up there, she would forget everything. She always refused to eat more than specific items the day before a performance, sure that any deviation would make her fail.

But it always went away the moment she stepped on stage. As soon as she was performing, something took over her, and she truly, genuinely felt happy and confident as she so seldom did otherwise. She tried to tell herself this as she sat next to Brittany and the others, letting her shoulder touch Brittany's as she swung her legs restlessly, making snide comments about Lauren and Tina and the clothes of the other groups.

She noticed that Rachel was taking a long time in the bathroom and began to get irritated about that too. If the girl was in there playing with herself or something before the performance and delayed them, cute as it was, she was totally kicking her ass.

She was surprised when her cell phone rang, displaying Rachel's name. Glancing at Brittany guiltily, she excused herself and stepped apart from the others, answering Rachel in a low voice.

"What, you need a tampon or something? Because they have those vending things, you know-"

But when she heard Rachel's voice, cracking and almost sobbing over the line, she froze, fear squeezing itself around her heart. Without a word to Mr. Shue or the others she almost sprinted in the direction of the bathroom in her haste to get to her.

Rachel was alone in the bathroom, slumped down on the floor with her arms wrapped around herself, head down. Heart thudding, mouth dry, Santana dropped to her knees beside her, reaching to touch her shoulder. Something had happened, Rachel had said. Maybe she was just being over dramatic and she was freaking over sectionals…but maybe…

Automatically her eyes scanned over her body, sickened by many possibilities coming to mind, before she blurted, "Rachel, what's wrong, what happened? Rachel?"

Almost as soon as Santana was next to her, Rachel threw herself into the other girl's arms, clutching at the material of the dress top and curling into her as much as possible. Her body still trembled, and she held herself together so tightly that she looked impossible small.

Rachel didn't speak right away- she couldn't. Instead, she cried. It was a controlled, shaky cry, with choked sobbing and thin trails of tears, the salty teardrops hitting the skin of Santana's exposed clavicles due to how Rachel had placed herself against the girl. Her thighs were clenched together, and finally, after several minutes of deep, shuddering breaths and thick swallowing, the diva managed to get a few words out.

"S-some- a girl. From the- the- From another s-school," she said, taking another deep breath, trying to calm herself down and avoid a panic attack. "She-" her entire body shivered and her legs seemed to close even tighter, "she was- she got in my head."

Rachel knew, or was fairly certain, that the girl's entire purpose for the whole charade was to throw her off her game right before competition. She was positive of it, really. And even if that hadn't been the original intent, it had affected her anyway.

"T-touched me. Said- said things. A-about you. And- and me." Her fists tightened into Santana's dress, knuckles white and eyes clamped shut to stem more tears from falling. "Hands. I can't- Santana I can't- It's like her hands are s-still on me. It won't go away. Please make it go away." Another sobbed escaped then, and before Rachel could stop herself she was breaking down again, crumbling into Santana's arms.

Santana's heart was in her throat as soon as Rachel turned into her, pressing her face into her shoulder. The other girl was shaking, crying,

And all she wanted in that moment was to make her stop, to make her feel better. It didn't matter that she was wrinkling up her dress, holding onto it like she was, that she might mess up the makeup Santana had been obsessing over. It didn't even matter that they might be late getting onstage or that other people might start to wonder where they were. All that mattered was that Rachel was upset, Rachel was crying, and Rachel needed her. Someone had hurt her, and Santana had to try to make things okay.

She didn't need to hear Rachel explain to have a feeling that this wasn't just a sectionals nervous breakdown over performance. She was familiar with the sort of pain in Rachel's eyes, having been the cause of it several times herself. Someone had hurt her. Santana didn't know how or why or who, but she did know it was a someone, and she had to tense her jaw to keep from shooting out an interrogation like a machine gun, just to be able to find someone to hurt back.

Wrapping her arms around Rachel, she drew her head more closely against her shoulder, rocking her lightly as she put her lips close to her ear, trying to calm her.

"Rachel, it's okay. It's okay. Just tell me. Tell me what's wrong."

It was a few minutes before the girl could manage, and when Santana understood, heat flooded her face, and she felt herself start to shake as well, but out of rage rather than shock or fear. Someone had threatened Rachel. Someone had TOUCHED Rachel, and all she wanted then was to jump up and beat that someone within an inch of their life for even daring to try to hurt her in any way, let alone TOUCH her. But Rachel needed her. Rachel needed her, right now, and so she tried to calm down, even as her own voice shook.

"Rachel, who? Did they…where did she touch-"

But Rachel was sobbing, curling into her, and any answers would have to wait. Santana held her, stroking her hair, and tried to talk to her again.

"It's okay. I'm here, okay? It's okay."

Holding her, she kissed the top of her head, repeating what reassurances she could bring to mind. But even as she spoke to her, she was much more aware of what she felt than what she was saying.

She loved her. She loved Rachel so frigging much that being here, seeing her like this, was absolutely killing her. So much that she was controlling her own need, to go beat someone up, to be here instead for Rachel.

Santana's voice threaded through her, pushing back the vile words of the girl who had cornered her, and even as her body shook Santana's arms felt like they were grounding her. It didn't feel claustrophobic, or over-bearing, or like she needed more space. If anything, she felt like she needed to stay exactly where she was, against Santana, where it was _safe,_

And it hit Rachel like a freight train, in that moment, exactly how much she felt for the Cheerio. She hadn't quite been able to grasp it, just how much Santana's presence made her feel secure in herself, but now she did. Because as much as her body was internally and externally shying away from the mere idea of physical contact, being held by Santana felt like some sort of necessity. As though she'd fall apart if Santana let go.

And when Santana said that it was okay, even though it didn't feel okay, Rachel believed her— had to, really.

For several more minutes she focused on calming herself down, letting the warm body and familiar scent ease her anxiety. The bruise on her thigh still throbbed, and her skin was still crawling, but she needed to pull herself together.

At least, for the next 30 minutes, Rachel needed to get back to her feet and pretend that she hadn't been incredibly violated.

So, one hand letting go of Santana's dress only to grasp and hold tightly to the nearest hand, Rachel swallowed hard, and pulled herself together as much as she could. "I- I'll tell you after. You can't- I know you'll want to do something right away. But- We need to focus on the competition first. We have to. And- and then, after we win, I'll tell you everything." She knew Santana wasn't going to like that, but it had to be done.

If only so that the girl wouldn't have the satisfaction of winning.

"Just- Just hold my hand until we're on stage, okay? Please?" She was almost desperate for Santana to say yes. Rachel was positive that if Santana let go now, she wouldn't be able to keep some sort of composure at all. Once she was performing, she was positive she'd be able to stick it out and forget for awhile. It was the now, and the after, that worried her most. "I just… I just need you to- to not let go," she murmured, voice still thick even as her tears tried and her breathing became somewhat more regular.

Santana's impulse was to protest. She didn't want to just walk out of the bathroom, having wiped Rachel's tears and calmed her down, and pretend nothing had happened. What she wanted was to find this girl, throw her down to the ground, hit her with the heels of her own stilettos in the face, and let her know exactly what would happen when she messed with Rachel Berry on Santana's watch. She itched all over with her desire to do exactly that and KNOW it would never happen again.

But it wasn't what Rachel was asking or needing. Rachel wanted to go onstage- of course, after her psycho crazy hyper focus on sectionals all week, that would be what she wanted. Rachel wanted her to wait. Rachel wanted to win.

And she wanted her to hold her hand doing it.

Santana knew what this would mean. Holding Rachel's hand, in public, in front of the entire Glee club, would almost be as good as a signed confession. Holding Rachel's hand in front of Brittany would no doubt hurt and confuse the girl she had been sitting beside most of the evening already. Holding Rachel's hand would have multiple layers of meaning she didn't know how the outcome would be.

But Rachel was asking. Rachel needed it. And honestly, Santana needed whatever Rachel needed, to know she would be okay.

At least until she could kill this girl.

"Okay," she said quietly, squeezing her hand. "I will. I will."

Reaching behind her, she strained her arm trying to get hold of and pull out a paper towel. It was rough and not much use, but she tried to fix Rachel's makeup, wiping her tears with her thumb gently and trying to keep the worst of the damage from spreading further. With her other hand she tried to smooth down her hair.

"You'll knock them dead singing, and then I'll knock them dead, period."

Sniffling, trying to smile, lips still quivering a bit, Rachel almost broke down all over again as Santana helped fix her makeup and hair. She just nodded, not trusting herself to speak in that moment.

Then, with less than five minutes before the competition started, Rachel stood up with Santana, taking her hand again, and straightening up.

She closed her eyes, focused hard, and channeled the same sort of persona she had used countless times when she had been bullied and slushied. With a few more deep breaths, the exhales slow and sure, she pushed everything down as deep as it would go, and it was almost scary how easily she could transform herself back to Rachel 'the Diva' Berry.

But this time Rachel was positive that it was only because of Santana being with her.

Finally, "Alright. I'm ready." She opened her eyes, nodding her head again, not sure if she was saying it to Santana or herself. Reaching out, she took Santana's hand, squeezing it tightly once more. "And… Santana?" Rachel hesitated for a moment, and then spoke, "_Thank you_. You're… I can't do this without you." The words were quiet, but they felt so heavy to her- so full of meaning.

Had she ever said something like that before? To anyone but her dads?

She was positive that she hadn't.

She had never been able to depend on someone before, just herself. The idea that if Santana walked away now she'd break all over again terrified her, but it… Rachel knew, without a doubt, that she was falling in love with Santana Lopez. She had always known, but it had never been so clear to her until now.

"And your solo will blow them away. It will. Come on. We have a competition to slay." With that she headed for the door, holding Santana's hand tightly in her own.

Santana watched as Rachel's expression shifted, taking on the confidence and determination she was so familiar with. Watching Rachel square herself to go on, feeling the girl's hand grasped in hers, made Santana feel like she could do this too. Not just the competition, but everything. Holding Rachel's hand in front of everyone. Telling them that yes, she liked her, they were friends, but she LIKED her too, and that she was not and would not be ashamed.

Brittany. Even as she held Rachel's hand, she was thinking of Brittany, and how she would hurt…but she has to do this. She has to be honest, with herself and with Rachel and with Brittany too. And what is true is that she doesn't want to let go of her hand when Rachel needs her…or even when she just wants her.

Ever.

Time to go on. Her solo was Pink's "Nobody knows," and she was going to kick ass.

She smiled back at Rachel, then, taking a deep breath, kissed her cheek, close enough to her mouth that her lips brushed its corner. As she walked out holding her hand, head held high, she could hear the others asking where they had been, and feel Brittany's eyes on her. She gave Brittany a small smile and tried to convey with her eyes that she would talk to her, that she loved her, that she was sorry, but she said nothing, not releasing her hold on Rachel or letting their looks affect her.

Maybe she needed this too.

The rest of the competition was a blur for Rachel, less like actions occurring and more like various emotions and sensations fill her up. She felt eyes on her, but the only feeling was the one of Santana's hand in hers. And when it was finally time for them to go on, Santana;s hand slipping from hers in the last second to go on the stage, her entire focus was on the girl and her performance.

When the music died and Rachel and Finn went on for their duet, their chemistry on the stage managing to stay strong despite them no longer being together, she could feel more eyes (unwanted eyes) staring her down, undressing her and waiting for her to crack.

But she didn't crack. She sang with every bit of passion and power her voice could muster, every step exact and fluid as she let herself get lost.  
And by the time the New Directions were on in their entirety, bodies moving and voices strong, the throbbing on her thigh didn't hurt quite so much.

Then it was over, the stage going dark and New Directions moving off stage to sit for the rest of the performances.

Rachel sought out Santana's hand the second they were in the wings, and, doing her best not to look at Brittany, and having to fight even harder not to look at the dirty blonde that had violated her as the girl strode past with her team, she took her seat next to the Latina, and squeezed the girl's hand again, leaning in close and whispering, "You were_ incredible_."

Without even thinking she pecked Santana softly on the cheek, barely brushing the corner of the girl's lips, just as Santana had done earlier for her.

"_Thank you so much._"

88

Santana always came alive on stage.

Every time she began to move in sync with the others, their energy revving up her own, providing an electric chemistry that could always not just power her through, but keep her fully experiencing and believing every moment of every emotion of every song. She wasn't performing a prechoreographed routine or singing words she had had to memorize; she was believing it, all of it, living it as though it were spontaneous, her own will in the moment. And she was sure that everyone else was too.

Performing was magic, the one thing in her life she could see as above and beyond herself, the one thing that could raise her above it all. It made her special and beautiful as nothing else could. It made everything thing seem clear and bright and hopeful even when everything else was a disaster and failure. In performing, she could always shine.

As she sang the last words of her solo, she realized that they were no longer true, and now, it seemed clear to her which person had slashed them at last.

Nobody knows  
Nobody knows the rhythm of my heart  
The way I do when I'm lying in the dark  
And the world is asleep  
I think nobody knows  
Nobody knows  
Nobody knows but me  
Me

As she walked off stage with the others, applause ringing in her ears, Santana felt Rachel grab her hand, her lips on her cheek, and she smiled. Someone did know.

88

The competition was over, and they had _won_.

As sure as Rachel had been, to actually be able to place the trophy in the choir room made it all much, much more real.

The others were celebrating in the emptying auditorium, but she had snuck out to put the trophy in its proper place, along with the sectionals trophy from last year. She looked at them both, sighing a little, but with a small smile.

Things hadn't quite hit yet- the earlier events still locked away in the corners of her mind. The rival schools had left already, thankfully, and Rachel dearly hoped she had seen the last of the girl whose name she hadn't even learned. She could find out, if she wanted to, but she didn't want to be able to put a name to the face. Besides, she was pretty sure that Santana, once Rachel told her what had happened (and she would; she had promised) would do all that for her…

Speaking of, she knew she would have to return to the others soon.

But for now, she was enjoying the peace. She would have deeply preferred Santana was with her, but she hadn't wanted to tear her away from Brittany when everyone was so focused on their win. Or, really, she didn't want to tear her away from Brittany ever.

That didn't mean, however, she didn't ache for the girl.

At some point, Santana had become her anchor- something, _someone,_ to hold onto when her own confidence and willpower started to crack under the pressure.

And she loved her.

She could feel it. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe everything had been happening too fast. But love was the only name she could put to everything she felt for Santana.

88

They had won.

It was the first time, something Santana had deeply wanted, more than even she had realized until she was touching the trophy with her own hands. Seeing it herself, knowing that she was part of the reason they had it, that she had earned it as much as anyone else, left her smiling so widely she felt it in her cheeks, a strange lightness to her body as though it were not quite her own. It didn't matter that only her mother had come to watch her perform, at least in those few moments after the win. She had done something amazing, with everyone else, and she was proud of herself and all of them, even if she wasn't about to say it aloud to them.

For the first few minutes she had forgotten everything but joining the others in shouting in glee and jumping up and down, grabbing people's hands and hugging them, even the ones she normally didn't get along with, like Finn and Tina. Seeing Brittany nearby, she had thrown her arms around her neck and clung to her, laughing close to her ear in exhilaration of the moment. When she had broken away from Brittany, her arm still around her neck, she had looked for Rachel then, wanting to share a moment with her most of all.

But Rachel was apart from the others. Rachel wasn't there, and immediately Santana was concerned, remembering what had happened before. Was she okay? Wasn't she happy?

She had to deal now with what had happened in the bathroom, and with whoever had hurt her. And there were other things to talk about too.

Disentangling from Brittany, she hugged her again, then leaned up to kiss her cheek as she whispered, "You were awesome. Britt…we need to talk later, okay? I'll be right back."

Then she walked away, looking for Rachel.

Rachel's head jerked around when she heard the door click open, heart leaping into her throat for a moment in fear, eyes wide. But the moment she saw Santana, she calmed down, letting out a little nervous laugh as she offered the girl an apologetic smile.

"H-hi," she said softly, stepping up to Santana. "I um… Sorry, for vanishing," she continued, looking down. "There were… I was feeling a little overwhelmed."

Overwhelmed, claustrophobic, a little jumpy… A lot of things. Not to mention that, well, her first instinct had been to kiss Santana once their victory had been announced, and she was pretty sure that she couldn't do that… Not in front of everyone, and especially not with Brittany right there. It wouldn't have been fair, no matter how badly she wanted it.

"You truly were fantastic, you know… I had tears in my eyes just listening, you know?" Rachel knew she was stalling. She wasn't quite ready to recall the… whatever it had been, from earlier.

Even if she had been spending the majority of her time in the choir room thinking of how to say it without breaking down all over again.

"Yeah, about that," Santana skipped past any talk whatsoever of their win, of performing, of any of the others- that could all be said later. She stepped forward, looking Rachel in the eye and searching her expression as she spoke, looking for answers that hadn't yet come. "You told me you would tell me after what happened, Rachel. I need to know."

She waited, staying very still and holding the other girl's gaze, trying to keep herself calm regardless of whatever answer she might receive. She could already see that Rachel didn't want to talk to her, that something was different in her demeanor, and she fought the urge to just reach out for her hand to pull her close. No…she needed to know. Rachel needed to say it, and she would wait however long it took.

"What happened? Who hurt you..and…how?"

Biting her lip, already feeling the need to draw into herself as she wrapped her arms around her waist and sat down on the piano bench, legs closed, she cleared her throat, looking down at the floor. "R-right… I promised, I know." Taking a deep breath, trying to keep herself calm by assuring herself that she was safe now, Rachel spoke.

"I was… I was in the bathroom, as you know. I was just on my way back, and this girl came in… She… She was from that new team, the ones in the violet jackets. The… The dirty blonde, with the tan. Long hair, sang the solo for her team. But um… Anyway… She… She cornered me…" As Rachel continued to speak, letting the words fall, tears began to slide down her cheeks slowly. But she kept going, telling Santana as much as she could, even as her breathing started to become irregular and her hold on herself tightened.

It took her all of five minutes to get the whole story out, every word said and action done, and by the time she got out the girl's parting words, she felt like she was slipping from reality again.

"Th-then she left. And I- I called y-you," ended Rachel, eyes glazed over, another shiver traveling up her spine. She closed her eyes tightly. "I think- n-no. I know she- she did. She left a b-bruise. Where she grabbed me. On- on my thigh." It was throbbing more than ever now, no doubt due to Rachel recalling how it got there in the first place.

It had been very

Difficult for Santana to listen to Rachel. Seeing her fold herself up as small as she could, looking so obviously upset, so vulnerable, she had had to bite down on the inside of her cheeks and dig her nails into her palms to keep tears from coming to her eyes. It was HARD to look at her like that, to know that she was that sad, and not know what to do about it.

She had come to sit by Rachel as she spoke, easing herself slowly so the girl wouldn't be startled and stop talking, and as she continued to speak, Santana lightly slid her arm around her, stroking her thumb over the ball of Rachel's shoulder. She sat close, leaning into her side, showing her physical support for her as Rachel went on.

The more she said, the harder Santana's heart pounded in her chest, and the more difficult it was to continue to breathe somewhat normally. By the time she understood the gist of what had happened, her vision was literally skewed red, small orbs drifting in front of her eyes as they unfocused, staring past the wall across from them without really seeing it at all. She was seeing that girl, that girl cornering Rachel, putting her hands on her, hurting her…she was seeing her leaving Rachel there crying, thinking she had won. She saw that girl, and Rachel, felt Rachel shivering beside her even now, and she pulled away, wanting and needing to keep her hands busy, preferably against that girl's face, just to keep herself from starting to cry.

She didn't want to hear anything else, if Rachel had anything to add. She had already reached the level of her tolerance before Rachel mentioned the bruise.

Her eyes widening, Santana turned back towards her sharply she swayed slightly, lightheaded, her voice rising. "She BRUISED YOU?"

She didn't wait for Rachel's confirmation. Instead, she started back towards the door, calling over her shoulder, "I'll take care of her. Right now."

Head snapping up, tears staining her cheeks, Rachel threw herself at the girl, wrapping her arms around Santana's waist tightly and burrying her face in the girl's back. "Santana no- please," she begged, voice small and vulnerable. "_Please_. Not- not now. I- I need you here. I just need you, okay?"

She couldn't think of what she'd do if Santana left now, besides cry a lot, and possibly have a panic attack. The idea of being left with her thoughts and memories was terrifying. She needed Santana to stay with her, and anchor her, and keep telling her that she was safe and that it was going to be okay.

"Please just take me home," Rachel whimpered, sniffling and shaking against Santana's back. "I need you to- to hold me. Please? You can- later. Anything you want later. Or something. But I really, really need to not be alone right now."

Rachel knew Santana was probably seeing red, and she had expected that, but she hoped with everything she had that Santana would understand that Rachel didn't need a white knight in this moment. What she needed was just… a security blanket, more than anything.

"Please don't leave me…"

Santana's went still automatically as Rachel threw herself at her, pinning her arms down and begging her not to go. She could hear the girl crying, feel her tears against the bare skin of her back, and she had to take several slow breaths in before she could think clearly at all.

It was hard to reign herself in from her strong urge towards vengeance and violence. It was hard, almost impossible, not to shrug Rachel off, ignore her, and do what she felt was what was most needed.

But that wasn't what Rachel thought she needed. Rachel wanted her to stay with her. Rachel wanted her here.

Exhaling, her back teeth grinding each other with her fight to stay calm, Santana turned, taking Rachel by the shoulders and prying her back from her slightly. Her heart squeezing as she saw the misery in her expression, she pushed her hair back from her face, letting one hand linger on her cheek.

"I won't. I'll take you home."

She paused, then leaned forward, giving Rachel a light, soft kiss on her cheek, then, on sudden daring, on her lips before pulling back and licking her lips as it dawned on her she wasn't actually supposed to be doing that.

"Sorry. I'll…I'll take you home."

Rachel looked up at Santana, biting her lip as the girl pulled away from the chaste kiss. She was shaking, she knew, and still scared. But during that brief kiss, it had all gone away.

Because it was hard to think about anything at all when Santana's lips were against hers.

"You- … I…" The words were there. They were right there, and if she could just _say them_. Express in _some way _how much this all meant to her, how much _Santana_meant to her… Maybe… Maybe some of the bad thoughts would go away again. If she could just…

"I… Santana I-" But God it was so hard… Especially when she didn't know what would happen afterwards. Would Santana freak out? Not believe her? All those options seemed stupid to think about, but they were there, and real to _her_. But… Not as real as Santana's hand on her cheek, or her lips against Rachel's own. Not as real as the girl's arms around her, or how Santana's hand felt so strong and sure when it held hers.

Then, in a rushed whisper, tears still streaming down her cheeks as she held her hands against her chest, both sure and unsure all at once, Rachel said softly, "I really love you…"

Four words, much less than what Rachel was typically capable of speaking. But this time…those particular words…it was enough.

Santana knew already she loved Rachel. She had known in the

Bathroom, from the time she took her hand and kept holding it all the way through the rest of the time before the performance, that she had made her choice, in her heart. She hadn't expected Rachel to say she loved her back; she knew for herself what her own truth was.

So when Rachel looked up at her, and said with uncertain sincerity that she loved her…that she REALLY loved her…it was only further confirmation of what she already knew. And yet it was everything.

Santana could count on one hand how many people in her life had told her they loved her and meant it. She could count on one hand how many people she had said the same to. And now here was one more…the one she had been waiting for, without even knowing it. The one that mattered to her right now more than any other.

She smiled, even as tears pricked behind her eyes. Somehow even with her tearstreaked face and her mess of emotion, Rachel still looked beautiful to her then. She looked…she looked like she was hers.

"I do too," she said back softly. Reaching for Rachel's hands, she covered them with hers, briefly biting her lower lip as she looked back at her. "Love you."

Still sniffling, holding onto the hands interlaced with her own with everything she had just to keep herself together, Rachel nodded quickly, swallowing and sniffling again. "Y-yeah," she squeaked, a half smile on her lips, feeling completely overwhelmed, though more in a good way now.

She was still seconds away from a meltdown, though. But at least now she didn't feel quite so heavy, and there were no words sticking in the back of her throat. "H-home now?" she asked, moving in closer to Santana, letting go of her hands only so that she could wrap her arms around the Latina's waist and hug her tightly, breathing in the girl's scent with deep, forcefully controlled breaths.

"I'd- I need to- to lay down. Want you there." _Needed _her there, really. Because Rachel was 100% sure that she wouldn't be able to sleep without Santana tonight. Maybe not for several nights, were she honest with herself.

And that scared her, too. But… well… Santana _loved her_. _Her_. Rachel _Berry_. And that… That had to mean something. Especially since Rachel loved Santana, too.

Arms around her, Santana entwined her fingers in Rachel's hair, leaning her cheek against the top of her head.

Rachel was still upset; she could tell she was trying not to cry, and it was upsetting for her to see her like this. She combed her fingers through her hair, giving her a squeeze around the shoulders as she tried to talk herself down as much as Rachel, nodding in response to the girl's request.

"Yeah. Yeah, anything you want."

And she meant it. Whatever Rachel wanted or needed, right now, she was not just willing to give it to her…she felt like she needed to. Like whatever she needed, that was exactly what Santana wanted to give.

She let Rachel hold onto her for as long as she seemed to need before wiping at her cheeks again with her finger tips, then reaching for a box of tissues near the piano and handing them to her to use if needed. When they started out of the room, Rachel's hand still in hers, Santana's phone was vibrating with texts, but she ignored them all. Other people later. Rachel now.


	27. Chapter 27

Santana didn't know what she expected, really, going to Brittany's after their last encounter. She knew what she wanted- to fold herself into Brittany's arms like nothing had ever happened. To pretend that this was true and have Brittany do the same. To feel free to kiss and cuddle and make out with her like Rachel didn't exist, or maybe like neither Rachel nor Brittany minded about the others' existence.

But none of that could happen. She didn't know what would, but she did know she missed Brittany. She loved Brittany. And she didn't want to have the sight of Brittany's devastated face etched into her memory forever without creating a memory to replace it.

So as she stood at Brittany's door, waiting for her to answer her knock, she took a slow breath in, telling herself they could just hang out. Like her and Rachel. It was possible

When Brittany heard the knocks at the door, she sat there for a moment, hoping maybe her mom would answer it so she could delay seeing Santana. She wanted to see her but she was almost scared to see Santana; she'd been trying avoid her in and out of school as much as possible. She was afraid Santana would have her answer.

Of course, her mom didn't answer the door and Brittany didn't want to keep Santana standing out there forever. She straightened the wrinkles out of her tank-top and slicked her hair back out of her face before heading towards the door.

Brittany swung the door open. She gave Santana a quick smile before stepping aside and letting her come into the home. All Brittany wanted to do was hug Santana and kiss Santana, but she wouldn't allow herself.

"Hey, Santana."

It still killed her, to look at Brittany and see how Brittany wasn't genuinely smiling at her, how she didn't touch her or look happy to see her. Santana hadn't failed to notice that Brittany was avoiding her at school and hardly meeting her eyes. She knew this was her fault, but not what to do about it.

Exhaling, she smiled back at her, equally small in measure, and followed her inside, clearing her throat. But she could think of no words to say except the obvious, the ones already said before. She missed her. She loved her. She was sorry.

Instead she reached for Brittany's hand and squeezed, letting her be the one to make the first move from there.

Brittany squeezed Santana's hand back before taking her to her bedroom.

" I've missed seeing you and hanging out with you." Brittany looked up at Santana from the floor. "It wasn't really cool of me to say we shouldn't see each other and stuff."

It wasn't the smartest thing Brittany had ever done, she was really just hurting herself by staying away from Santana. She wasn't sure if it was hurting Santana as much since she had Rachel still.

Santana was relieved when Brittany didn't pull away from her, and even went on to say that she missed her. Smiling at her again, she shrugged, sitting with her on her bed and keeping hold of her hand, not wanting to let go. It was always hard to be away from Brittany even when they were on good terms, let alone when she thought Brittany might be mad at her or upset with her. She didn't want to let that ever happen again.

"It wasn't your fault, I'm the one who's not being cool. I know I'm not being fair to you…you deserve better, Britt. I'm really going to try to do things like I should…I promise. I don't want to hurt you."

She met Brittany's eyes, hoping the girl would see how much she meant it

No, but I get it now, Rachel's probably a lot more… everything than me. I'm hotter though." Brittany shrugged her shoulders. "Santana, even if you hurt me like, 80-jillion more times I'll probably still forgive you and you'd still be my best friend. Not saying I want you to hurt me, because well, it doesn't feel nice."

She knew Santana wasn't intentionally hurting her and she wasn't trying to be unfair, but she was. There wasn't anything Brittany could do about it so she had to accept the fact that she may live the rest of her life wondering if Santana loved her or Rachel more, at least that's what it felt like.

Did Rachel feel that way too? She didn't even want to think about Rachel, but she wanted to know if Rachel was as sad as she was or if she was trying to find ways to get Santana to love her more. That seemed like something Rachel would do.

Brittany looked down at their hands, trying to remember that she was with Santana right now, she didn't need to think about how Rachel was feeling- Rachel probably didn't think about how Brittany was feeling. It was nice being back with Santana and that's all that mattered

"No, she isn't," Santana argued,

Immediately shaking her head. She didn't stop to think whether it was true. To her, Brittany and Rachel were drastically different, and there was no comparison of who was more or less. They were just DIFFERENT, in ways that were equally appealing.

"She's not more anything than you, Britt. And you're right, you're totally hot." Reaching out to Brittany again, Santana pulled her close, hugging her hard and leaning her forehead against the taller girl's shoulder. One hand splayed between her shoulder blades, she squeezed again before pulling back, looking up into her eyes.

She didn't deserve Brittany to forgive her so easily and so often. She didn't deserve the girl to still love her no matter if she hurt her or not. It was amazing and so Brittany that she would, and Santana bit her lip, trying to show all of this in her eyes because she knew her words would never be enough.

"I don't want to hurt you anymore, Britt. Let me know when I am and I'll fix it…okay?"

Hugs from Santana were like Heaven to Brittany- especially because Santana wasn't really the touchy/feeling kind of person; to Brittany it meant something when Santana did small things like that. She kept a good hold on Santana until she pulled away.

"Obviously what I want fixed, kind of can't be. But, as long we stay very, very best friends from now until eternity I _think _I'll be okay." Brittany held out her pinky. "Do you promise? This is a long term friendship commitment that you'll never ever be able to get out of."

She wasn't entirely sure if everything she'd said was true, but she thought that if maybe she convinced herself that it was, everything would be somewhat alright not only between them, but she'd feel better as well.

Santana smiled, even as she felt pangs of sadness for what she was doing, for the choice she was making. It wasn't easy, no matter how she felt or what she knew was right or fair, to let go, even this little bit.

Linking her pinky with Brittany's, she held on, nodding as she answered her seriously.

"Forever. I promise…and we can still cuddle, right?"

Brittany smiled a real genuine smile when Santana asked her if they could still cuddle; she truthfully thought it was cute that Santana wanted to make sure.

"I guess if we really have to," Brittany teased, she poked Santana's leg to let her know of that.

Santana, she looked sad and Brittany definitely was. She wanted to do something so the sad vibes in the room would disappear.

"Lord Tubbington brought me some Skittles, do you want them? Tasting the rainbow makes everyone happy."

"We have to," Santana insisted, her lips twitching at Brittany's teasing. "It's a must. If we don't cuddle every time we hang out, I'll either go Lima Heights on someone's ass or I'll cry, and we know how scary both those options are."

Of course, she was teasing, but she was genuinely relieved as well. Brittany was taking this far better than she had hoped for, and it seems that she hasn't managed to ruin their friendship. Santana is grateful for this; she didn't know what she would have done Brittany had been done with her. Unable to hold back any longer, she grabs Brittany up into another tight hug, squeezing hard, leaning her forehead to her shoulder.

"I love you," she whispered before pulling back, trying not to make a face at Brittany's Skittles offer. If the cat actually did drag them in, she really didn't want to know how. "Sure. I get reds?'

Brittany nodded her head. "True, we don't want either of those."

When Santana hugged her again, she felt her heartbreaking. Brittany was so much sadder than she was leading on to be, she didn't want Santana to feel bad. She put on a strong face and smiled at Santana when she pulled away. The blonde reached over and grabbed the small bag of Skittles that were sitting on her nightstand.

"Here," She held the candy out for Santana to take. "Have them all, I don't want them, anyways."

Didn't want them? Since when did Brittany not want candy?

Frowning, Santana looked at the candy, then at Brittany, studying her. The girl wasn't talking as randomly as usual or being very forthcoming with anything, and that made her wonder…and worry. Was Brittany really okay with all this?

"Britt, please don't be sad," she said quietly, taking out the candy and spilling some into her hand, but not eating it. "It makes me sad when you're sad."

Was she not being convincing enough, was her sadness seeping through her fake happiness? Santana, was a mind-reader though, she probably just knew that Brittany was sad. That's why she always hated feeling anything but happy around Santana, she somehow knew something was wrong_- always_.

"I'm not sad. So, _you _don't be sad because I don't want to cry. Now, eat your candy and be happy or I'll take it back."

She began thinking happy thoughts, blocking out everything else so Santana wouldn't know how she really felt.

First off, Santana didn't really want the candy. Second off, she was sure, despite Brittany's denial, that she was sad. She just didn't want to tell her, or else she thought Santana would feel guilty. Santana DID feel guilty. She hated seeing Brittany upset, let alone knowing she was the one who made her feel that way.

Frowning, she put her arm around her, leaning her head to Brittany's shoulder as she half held her, her voice low. "Britt…please don't lie to me. I wanna fix things if you're sad. Please?"

Brittany didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to keep dwelling on the fact that Santana was literally breaking her heart in a million little pieces- she wanted to move and talk about anything else because every time they spoke about "the situation" she wanted to bury her face into her pillow and cry. She'd done enough of that lately; Brittany was pretty sure she'd run out of tears if she cried any more.

"Have I ever lied to you? I'm really fine, I cross my heart." Brittany drew a small cross on her chest.

She didn't add the 'hope to die, stick a needle in my eye' because she wasn't about to stick a needle in her eye for lying. Then she'd be blind and sad.

It was true that Brittany had never lied to her before. And her tone did seem normal. She strongly believed in the power of cross heart promises too…but she still seemed different to Santana, off somehow. Maybe it was just Santana.

She kept her arm around her, her head leaned into her as she nodded, accepting her word cautiously for now. "Okay. If you're sure."

Brittany laid her head on top of Santana's.

Things were never going to be the same, they weren't going to be able to hug and kiss whenever they wanted. Cuddles would probably be no more, and if they did it wouldn't be like it used to be. She felt like crying, like breaking down right then and there, but she'd told Santana she was okay.

"I'm sure. If I ever become unsure, I'll let you know."

Brittany was still lying to her.

Santana was sure of it now. She couldn't put her finger on how, but Brittany just felt…different, somehow. Not as light as usual, not as receptive. She knew that Brittany was disappointed and sad, maybe even partly angry with her, and Santana didn't know what to do about it or how to react. She loved her. She knew she loved Brittany with all of her heart…but like she had told her already, it was different. Just DIFFERENT than how she loved Rachel.

Did she still think Brittany was hot? Of course. Would she enjoy making out with her and more? Clearly. Did she still want and plan to hug her and cuddle her and be regularly touchy-feely with her? Sure.

But Rachel was her girl now. So was Brittany, but not…it was just DIFFERENT.

And Brittany was sad. Brittany was sad, and Santana hated, hated to see her sad.

She rubbed her hand up and down Brittany's arm, then ran her fingers through her hair before pulling away, taking her by the hand and pulling her towards her bed. "Can we cuddle now then? Please?"

The blonde nodded her head. "Yeah of course."

There was nothing Brittany loved more than being held by Santana and she loved holding Santana, but she wasn' t even sure if they would be able to do that anymore. Not with Rachel around. Brittany saw how jealous Rachel got when she was with Finn she couldn't even begin to imagine what it'd be like with Santana. Santana was one of those girls you'd never want to loose.

Sitting down on Brittany's bed and scooting backward, so her back was resting against the headboard, Santana held out her hand to Brittany, grasping her fingers and pulling her back with her. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she nestled her head down against Brittany's shoulder, half closing her eyes as her fingers lightly stroked the side of Brittany's arm.

The girl felt tenser than usual against her, and Santana swallows, forcing back all the questions and apologies she is still tempted to offer. She just wants Brittany to be happy…that's all. Just be happy. But how can she make her be?

Being held by Santana really didn't have the desired effect; she was hoping all her troubles and worries would go away when Santana put her arms around her, but it actually just made her kind of sad. She held her breath for a moment.

"I'm a liar." She said back to Santana in a whisper so she hopefully couldn't hear the shakiness in her voice.

She laid her hand on Santana's arm so she wouldn't move it away, she didn't want her to stop holding her, even if she got mad for the lies. Although, she was pretty sure Santana wouldn't be mad, but Santana was the most unpredictable person in the whole world.

Brittany still wasn't holding her back. She wasn't snuggling back or speaking to her, and Santana knew, KNEW the blonde was still upset. God, she wished she knew what to do or say, because even holding Brittany and telling her how much she loved her, how special she was to her, didn't seem to be helping at all.

And then Brittany spoke up, telling her she was a liar, and Santana knew exactly what she was saying. Taking a slow breath in, she tried not to let herself get upset too as she squeezed the other girl closer to her, keeping her voice low.

"I know. Britt….I really hate making you sad."

A bit of confusion hit Brittany when Santana had told her she knew she was lying, she felt like she'd been pretty convincing that everything was okay… but once again Santana somehow figured everything out.

For the first time ever, Brittany didn't feel like saying much about her own feelings- she knew that no matter what she said she'd upset Santana in the process, but she needed to get things out. After adjusting herself so she could see Santana better she looked at Santana for a moment, trying to get her words together and trying to keep herself calm.

"I know you're not trying to make me sad, but I've spent years loving you and it really sucks now that you don't love me the same way. It's going to be so hard to see you with, _her_."

Santana bit her lip, taking a slow breath in and releasing it, trying not to let too many emotions come to her eyes. Brittany was pulling back to look at her, but she didn't want to see her. The girl's eyes were too naked, too sad for her to be comfortable.

Why couldn't she just have things less complicated?

"I'm sorry," she muttered again, not knowing what else to say, knowing it wasn't enough. "I didn't know you loved me that long. You were always with other people and you didn't say anything…"

Of course that was the one thing Santana didn't know, how could she have not though? Brittany thought she had been giving her all the signs of liking her, but apparently she hadn't.

"I didn't say anything because _you_ were with other people and _you_ didn't say anything. I'd been waiting for you to say something for such a long time and when you do you fall in love with someone else."

She looked away from Santana scared that she'd maybe made her even more sad saying that- she hated making her feel bad, but she needed Santana to know this stuff. Honestly she was hoping that maybe telling her would help change Santana's mind, but she didn't expect it to. She seemed pretty set on being with Rachel.

This was hard, so damn hard. To upset and disappoint the first person she ever loved, the person she had set her sights on for so long, her best friend…how could she do this? And yet what other choice did she have?

"We both should have said something," Santana muttered, rubbing her hand over Brittany's arm and squeezing her tighter. She didn't know whether to wish they had or not, because although it was true she would be with Brittany then, and happy, she also wouldn't be with Rachel. She couldn't imagine that right now, not knowing how amazing Rachel really was. How much she could end up loving her.

She didn't know what else to say or do, so she kept hugging Brittany, leaning in to kiss her cheek and forehead before snuggling back down against her shoulder. There was a lump in her throat that wouldn't back down again as she tried to think of what to do.

Brittany sighed. "Maybe we should've never said anything at all."

Things wouldn't be so complicated if they hadn't. Santana would be with Rachel and Brittany could be sad without anyone even thinking it was because they were together, she could blame it on Lord Tubbington's addictions or say her sister had upset her. She could literally say anything and no one would even question it; they'd believe her and go about their day. Brittany wanted nothing more than for that to happen. But, everyone knew. Everyone knew about her and Santana and Rachel and Santana; _that _made everything so much worse.

Santana hugging and kissing her was nice, for a moment it made her feel like things were still normal, but then Rachel would pop back in her mind. She grabbed one of Santana's hands and held it tight.

It wasn't the same. Santana could feel it, no matter how tightly she held Brittany or squeezed her hand, or how much she tried to think otherwise. This was not the same, because Brittany was sad and she was sad and it just felt SAD to be close to her, rather than warm and comfortable and easy.

She wished she had never told Brittany how she felt. She wished she had never had those feelings…she wished above all else she wasn't gay. Even as she held her, trying to comfort, she felt extreme guilt and self-hatred. If she wasn't who she was, then Brittany wouldn't feel this way. Just being who she was made so many people unhappy, caused so many problems.

Brittany chewed on her lip for a moment and held onto Santana's hand tighter than she had been.

"I still love you, though. And I'm probably going to be sad for a while, but I think we should just pretend like I'm not sad so we can still be the bestest of friends and it not be weird because I don't want to lose you." Brittany fought back her tears. "Losing you completely would make everything like, billion times worse."

Santana nodded slowly, rubbing her thumb over the back of Brittany's hand. She didn't want to pretend things weren't how they were, or pretend that she wasn't sad or making Brittany sad. She hated living a lie with Brittany…it was the reason she had spoke up with her. But if it would make things better, or make Brittany feel better, then she guessed it was all they could do.

"Okay," she said after a few moments, nuzzling her chin against Brittany's shoulder. "You'll never lose me, Britt-Britt. Ever. I promise. Even after I die I'll go hang out and sing you songs okay?"

"Okay." The blonde giggled. "But if we're in the clouds and you don't do that, I'm moving to a different cloud. You can still come over to my cloud; I probably won't talk to you at first though."

Brittany could somewhat handle the fact that Santana wasn't going to be with her, there was no way she'd be able to handle not even having her as a best friend, so she was relieved when Santana said she wasn't going to lose her. She relaxed a bit and let herself enjoy the cuddling she was doing with Santana.

88

Next day: texts

**Santana:** what's up blondie doll?

**Brittany:** Blondie doll? I've never heard that one before.

**Santana:**i'm ever changing

**Brittany:** Why?

**Santana:**idk. it was just something to say

**Santana:** to keep things interesting?

**Brittany:** I mean, you're already interesting. No need for change, Sanny.

**Santana:** actually I really should, Brit

**S:** And I'm gonna try to

**Brittany:** I don't think you do. I think you're pretty damn perfect the way you are, so..

**Brittany:** Why do you suddenly want to change anyways?

**Santana:** I know you do Britt but I'm not.

**Santana:** I'm really not

**Santana:** so...

**Santana:** because I need to

**Brittany:** But you are! I don't know how you can't see that!

**Brittany:** If you change, then you're not gonna be my weirdo Santana anymore, you're gonna be like, Santana but not cool Santana.

**Santana:** you don't know all the things about me that make me kind of suck, Britt. You don't even see it.

**Santana:** what makes me cool Santana to you? lol

**Brittany:** You're my best friend, what exactly makes you sucky that I apparently haven't seen. I know, like, everything about you.

**Brittany:** To me, when you're fun and silly and sometimes bitchy, and cuddly and lovey and when you stand up for your friends. That makes you cool Santana. If you change you're not going to be any of those things. You're going to be… I don't know what but you're not going to be any of those things!

**Santana:** I totally will be, baby. I'll be more of those things.

**Santana:** you don't know everything about me.

**Santana:** I think, anyway

**Santana:** I don't tell you everything because you'd be sad

**Brittany:** I don't know, I just like you the way you are now..

**Brittany:** I won't be sad, I'll be happy that you're not keeping secrets from me anymore.

**Santana:** I'm not gonna totally change

**Santana:** just like the really wrong parts, ok?

**Santana:** really? do you really want me to tell you stuff even if it makes you sad?

**Brittany:** Yes. I hate that you keep secrets, like a lot.

**Santana:** okay..

**Santana:** Britt?

**Santana:** I make myself throw up.

**Brittany:** ...Why?

**Brittany:** Isn't that kind of gross?

**Santana:** I have to.

**Santana:** yeah. I told you I'm gross.

**Brittany:** I don't get why you have to.

**Brittany:** Shush, you're not gross. Throwing up is.

**Santana:** because...i'll get fat

**Santana:** and when I feel bad

**Santana:** it makes me feel better

**Santana:** I know.

**Brittany:** You're not fat and you're never going to be fat.

**Brittany:** Can't you find something that makes you feel better?

**Santana:** I might be

**Santana:** it's weird, I know

**Santana:** I just feel like I have to

**Santana:** and I don't feel okay until I do

**Santana:** I know you don't get it

**Santana:** I know you don't get it

**Brittany:** No, I get it.

**Brittany:** We all feel bad about ourselves, but do you really have to take it that far?

**Brittany:** Aren't you like, hurting your body?

**Santana:** no...it doesn't really hurt

**Santana:** it sort of feels better

**Brittany:** No, not like that.

**Brittany:** One time in health class they said that bad things will happen to your body if you make yourself throw up..

**Santana:** that's why I gotta change, Britt.

**Santana:** I don't want to have that happen.

**Santana:** I don't want to have that happen.

**Brittany:** Yes, you've got to change that.

**Brittany:** Anytime you feel like throwing up, call me and we'll go do fun stuff. Okay?

**Santana:** you can't do that like every time

**Brittany:** Oh yes I can... as long as you let me know when it's going on.

**Santana: ...okay...**

**Brittany: Love you, Sanny.**

**Santana: I love you too.**


	28. Chapter 28

Catching up

Rachel waited anxiously by the door, pacing back and forth, forever thankful that she had convinced her fathers to go visit her grandparents for a day or two. It meant the house was empty, and she can Santana could spent time together without supervision.

Now that her fathers knew she was… attracted to women, well, they had enacted the same rules about having females friends over as well as male.

But at least they trusted her home alone.

The point was, Rachel hadn't had a chance to do much more than hug and kiss Santana for… _awhile_. And it was terrible. She'd been able to handle it when she was sure that Santana would stay with Brittany, but now that she was getting her chance, she had dearly missed feeling Santana touch her.

She didn't think they'd go all the way yet- in fact she was sure of it. But she knew that Santana was okay with the not-sex-sex (as she called it), and so was Rachel. She figured that as long as she could get Santana off, the details weren't too important. Except… well…

And she'd been thinking about this for awhile now, but, she wanted to try something. It involved her tongue, and Santana at least naked from the waist down.

She doubted the other girl would object at all, but she just hoped Santana would be patient with her. Singing talents aside, she had no idea what she was doing. But she had researched, and had some good textual knowledge. And she felt ready to try, for certain.

So, well, no time like the present, right?

Just then the doorbell rang, jolting her from her thoughts. Quickly Rachel pulled the door open, practically dragged Santana inside, and didn't hesitate to press her against the closed door in a hard, heated kiss.

Verbal greetings later, she thought, kissing now.

It had been entirely too long since she could do this.

When she had officially been with Brittany, Santana hadn't had sex with her, which in hindsight was weird considering they had had sex when not officially dating. That maybe should have been a sign for her right there that something was wrong, that she couldn't quite let go of Rachel. But as it was, that meant it had been quite some time since she'd been touched or touched anyone in that way, and Santana missed it so much her skin itched for Rachel to be on her.

So when the girl greeted her at the door with all lips and hands and no words, Santana went with it immediately, hands sliding to cup her waist and shoulder to pull her close. She kissed her back just as eagerly, wanting almost to devour her with her hunger to be close.

"I missed- you-" panted Rachel between kissed, immediately moving the hand on her shoulder to her chest, and the one on her waist to her ass. All of two weeks ago, she would have been blushing madly at having Santana's hands on her like this. And maybe later, she'd still blush, but right now she just _wanted _Santana to touch her. _Needed _it.

She drank up Santana's kiss like water, opening her lips to invite the girl's tongue in, wrapping her own around it and giving a meager fight for control before relenting, letting Santana set the pace.

Her hips rocked into the Cheerio's own, and even that slight bit of friction had her whimpering with need as her hands tangled themselves in Santana's hair and she rocked her hips again, shifting to straddling one of Santana's strong thighs, and this time she mostly definitely moaned as she ground down on the solid muscles.

Oh holy shit Rachel was moving way faster than she had expected. Rachel wanted her to touch her THERE and THERE and she was moving her hands to do that and now she was feeling her boob and her ass and even through clothes oh godddd.

Pressing against Santana's thigh in between her legs her mouth on hers her tongue hand in her hair and Santana's thoughts were gone. There were no thoughts but how good this felt, how much she needed and wanted this, how much she had missed this, and so she melted against Rachel, letting her manipulate her exactly how she wanted before straightening up again, her skin flushed, as she began to take back control.

Leading their kissing now, she slid her hands beneath her shirt and down her skirt, fingers stroking with sure, firm gestures even as she began to back Rachel towards the wall, wanting to move up and down her body giving the girl no where else to go.

Rachel didn't realize that she was being backed up until she was up against the nearest wall in the entryway, back pressed up hard against it as hands grabbed her ass firmly, making her moan and jerk her hips harder down onto Santana's thigh.

She set a rhythm, rolling her hips firmly as she let Santana take over the rest, though couldn't resist one of her hands sliding down from the girl's hair to cup one of the Cheerio's boobs.

It didn't take long for her skirt to ride up, leaving only her underwear and Santana's jeans as barriers, and Rachel wondered if she could feel how hot and wet she was, if the girl would get mad at her for staining her jeans, or just think it was hot. Those thoughts were far away, however, as she increased her pace frantically, feeling ridiculously close to some sort of climax.

In hindsight, going from regular… well, _this_, to nothing at all, for over a week… Rachel wasn't too surprised how close she was. And that was okay, because they had as long as Santana wanted to stay, and a lot of time to make up for.

Santana could feel Rachel's wetness, the heat of her through the thin fabric of her underwear, and it was all she could do not to just reach beneath her skirt and tear them off her, right then and there. This was driving her CRAZY.

Rachel was rubbing against her, and Santana wasted no time in helping her, one hand moving to her hip to press her down more firmly against her, the other sliding up Rachel's leg and towards her underwear, pressing her fingers firmly against, just above where Rachel was bearing down on her. With both hands in position she managed to balance them both while helping further stimulate her, her own skin flushing from neck up with her own arousal to this. She couldn't believe how long she had gone without this. She really had been insane.

It didn't much more after that, especially once Santana was actively working to get her off. With a sharp inhale, hips jolting sharply once as the rest of her body tensed and shuddered, Rachel's head dropped to Santana's shoulder and she came with a loud moan, whimpering and panting as her orgasm rocked through her.

It was over much too quickly for her liking, and her legs became momentarily useless, making her grateful that Santana could hold her up and was supporting her.

Chest heaving, clinging to Santana tightly, Rachel allowed herself a minute or so to enjoy the aftershocks, but as the haze cleared a little, she remembered that she had a mission, and that Santana was probably most definitely not going to argue about it.

Without a word, she let out a deep exhale, and, biting her lip, drew back just enough to slowly drop down to her knees. Once there, she looked up at the girl, swallowing her anxiety and taking one of Santana's hands set it on her head- more permission that she was allowed to do so than anything else. "I- I want to try s-something— if that's- if that's okay with you. So… um… I a-apologize now if it's terrible. O-or something. "

Santana held Rachel, distantly aware of her heart knocking hard against her ribcage, of the tension of her muscles as Rachel recovered from her pleasure, entwining herself around her. She shifted her hand from between Rachel's legs to her back, supporting her now and slowly rubbing a hand over her head and hair as she too caught her breath.

Somehow, making Rachel get off was one of the sexiest things she could imagine experiencing. The only thing better would be Rachel getting her off herself.

When Rachel drew back, Santana started to pull away, confused, thinking that maybe she was needing a break to pull herself together. But then she dropped to her knees, and Santana's mind immediately drew suspicions she tried to push away. This was Rachel. Rachel said no under clothes, so no way was she…

But she was putting her hand to her head again. Saying something about trying something…no frigging way was Santana that lucky, right?

"Okay," she said slowly, still trying to convince herself she was wrong. "Go ahead."

Clearing her throat, focusing on her 'mission' so to speak, Rachel took a calming breath in, released it slowly, and reached out to unbutton Santana's jeans.

Her heart was hammering so hard in her chest that it was the only thing she could hear at this point, and as she took the zipper and drew it down, she was immediately hit by the heady scent of Santana's arousal through her underwear, making her head spin and her mouth actually water. Still, her hands shook as she drew the jeans down, letting them fall to Santana's ankles, and she was left with the side of the girl's dark, partial lace underwear.

The incoherent sound that escaped her throat was completely unrecognizable to Rachel's own ears, but it definitely sounded somewhere between desperate and incredibly turned on, which was also ridiculously considering she had just had an orgasm…

Finally, pulling herself together, she drew Santana's lacey underwear down as well, revealing the girl's trimmed, glistening folds. "Oh- Oh wow… " she murmured. Was it weird to think that Santana's sex was beautiful? Should she say something? Or was it weird to be staring, too? It was probably weird, so Rachel looked up, biting her lip.  
"T-tell me, I mean, don't, you know, be afraid to tell me what to do, or guide me… I've never done this at all, so…"

….she hadn't been wrong. No way, no fucking way no pun intended was this happening oh man it totally was…

Rachel was taking down her jeans, then her underwear, so slowly and carefully that Santana almost screamed with impatience. Was she deliberately teasing her? Even as she tried to help her speed up, kicking out of the jeans and lifting her feet to help herself out of her underwear, it seemed much too long to happen. What she wanted was Rachel's hands, and Rachel's mouth too if she would allow it, all over her. All in her. NOW.

Normally she would feel weird and self-conscious for someone to stare at her like that, with her thighs and hips right there in her face so she could see them without any covering at all. Normally she would start to focus on how she wanted them to be smaller or more shapely, how she wanted to readjust them in some way. But Rachel didn't even seem to notice them. She was looking at her sex alone, looking at it like it was something amazing, not in the drooling, speechless kind of way of a horny guy, but in a Rachel way…like she was in awe. It was completely weird but completely flattering and sexy at the same time.

Rachel better touch her RIGHT NOW or she was really going to scream. Already she was wet, her chest rising and falling shallowly, without her even moving to do so.

"You won't hurt me," she breathed as she reached out for Rachel's hand, placing it high on her inner thigh. "Just…go."

With one last breath, Rachel leaned in, setting her hands where Santana placed them, put more outwards so that she could grip, and took a slow, tentative lick from the bottom of Santana's folds to the top.

She took a second or two to decide if she liked it or not, and, after licking her lick, decided that, though strange, it was not a bad taste, and she could definitely get used to it with practice.

Knowing that, Rachel used her hands to push against Santana's thighs, asking the girl to spread out a little further, and once she did so, Rachel began exploring every inch of Santana's sex with her tongue. She ran the tip through the folds, moving from the outer inwards, zig-zagging almost, trying to see what made Santana react the most, as well as lap up more of the arousal coming from the hot center.

After a few moments, deciding it was now or never, she took a deep breath, and pressed herself fully against Santana's pussy, pushing her tongue inside of the tight, pulsing inner muscles. She moaned at the feeling of Santana's inner walls around her tongue, then hummed lightly, recalling something she had read about vibrations and making use of them.

Santana's muscles tensed and contracted, her inner thighs quivering as Rachel's tongue entered her, and she widened her eyes involuntarily, sucking in her breath with sharp pleasure. She was producing juices at a steady rate already, even before this, and as Rachel continued to give her attentions thoroughly, she found herself hissing wordlessly with her reaction, then muttering swear words under her breath as the girl seemingly expertly upped her arousal that much more.

Where the hell had Rachel the virgin LEARNED all this? Or what kind of movies had she been watching?

When Santana felt Rachel's tongue fully penetrate her, licking her walls, then the strangely tickling feeling of…was she talking into her?!- she could not contain herself for a second longer. Everything had been building up to this, and as she came, giving a short shriek, her hands gripping Rachel's hair, she accidentally pulled on it, harder than intended. Her breathing ragged, back slumped against the wall, legs spread wide, Santana slid her hands down to Rachel's shoulders and held on as though to support herself, her eyes shut, smiling widely even as she apologized.

"S-Sorry. Didn't…mean to…pull…"

Rachel was pretty sure that she had a small orgasm the same time Santana did- especially if the way her muscles clenched when the girl pulled her hair was any indication.

Lapping up as much of the wetness as she could, more or less trying to clean Santana up a bit and let her come down slowly, Rachel waited until she was satisfied with her work before pulled away enough to actually speak, licking her lips and smiling shyly. "It- it's fine. I um… I liked it. And uh… yeah." _Now _she was blushing hotly, what she had just done hitting full force.

She had just gone down on her Santana on her knees, she had made Santana actually climax by doing it. _She _did that. _Her_.

And it had been… well, _incredibly hot_.

So much so that she decided they needed to move this to the bedroom, iif only because her knees were getting sore and she doubted either of them wanted to keep standing. So, getting to her feet slowly, legs nearly as shaky as Santana's she cleared her throat. "Um… bedroom?" she asked with a small, far too shy smile, considering what she had just done.

Rachel hadn't even wiped off her mouth. She had basically eaten her out and then licked her lips. It was so unexpectedly sexy that Santana slumped further, feeling further twinging between her legs even as she tried to regroup.

Rachel's face was red, though whether this was from embarrassment or shyness or arousal, Santana didn't know and couldn't bring herself to bother caring about, at least now. What she wanted was to grab Rachel close to her and kiss her until they both melted in a pool of limbs on the floor- as soon as she could breathe again.

But Rachel took it one step further mentioning the bedroom. Santana wasn't about to turn her down as she pushed herself on trembling legs back from the wall, taking Rachel's hand.

Taking the offered hand, smiling brightly, Rachel took a small step, making sure her legs would actually support her, then led Santana upstairs to her room.

Once inside, Rachel closed the door (out of habit more than anything), and then took Santana's other hand, walking backwards towards her bed. She slid up on it, letting go of the hands, and settled in the middle of it, leaning back on the pillows. She was still flushed, from shyness and her orgasm both, but she was also wet, and, well, she wasn't sure she was willing to go all the way, necessarily, but she knew she wanted to keep kissing and feeling Santana.

Sitting up a bit, eyes never leaving the other girl's, Rachel removed her sweater, then her tank top, leaving only her bra. Smirking a little, raising an eyebrow in challenge, she spoke, "Are you just going to stand there, Lopez? Or are you going to make me beg again?" she teased, though she'd be lying if she said that she wasn't asking exactly for that…

Santana didn't have to be asked twice. Seeing Rachel leaning back against her bed with all that exposed skin, her breasts rising up out of her bra there for her to see more fully than ever before, was taking her to a new level of enjoyment. She had pictured repeatedly in her head what they must look like, based off fast glimpses while changing in Glee and what she herself had felt through and beneath clothes, but now to see them in front of her with nothing else in the way, free to look as long as she wanted…

She was so damn lucky. And she had no idea how come it had taken her so long to figure out that Rachel Berry was ridiculously sexy.

"I could make you beg without touching you at all," she shot back, her voice throatier than usual when Rachel teased her, even as she took a slow step forward. "But I'm impatient today, so…"

She took a sudden lunge forward, hitting the space beside Rachel with full bodily impact and flinging her arm across her chest, knocking her backwards with her. Smiling widely, she shifted herself so she was now straddling Rachel, sitting on her bare stomach, and it wasn't until she felt herself becoming wet all over again that she connected the dots of the fact that she still wasn't wearing underwear. But that wasn't something she was gonna change, at least unless Rachel asked her to back off, so she leaned forward, her inner muscles already contracting as she began to kiss her, the hand not supporting herself over her beginning to stroke her breasts both above and beneath the bra.

Squeaking as Santana tackled her, Rachel felt heat shoot straight down her spine and to her core, the wind nearly being knocked out of her from the impact and suddenness.

And then Santana was straddling her, without any underwear, at all. Rachel wouldn't actually _feel _the heat radiating from the girl's core, and when Santana leaned for a dominating kiss, all she could do was whimper and melt into the mattress even as her back arched up into the touch of Santana's hand on her chest. "Oh God…." she moaned when warm hands slipped under her bra.

Her nipples felt like they were actually straining against her skin and bra, and Rachel's hands went straight to Santana's hair once again, returning the kiss with just as much frenzy, toes curling and thighs clenching tightly together as she tried to give herself some relief.

How bad was it that she was already ready to beg?

Because she was ready to do it. She'd do nearly anything at this point to get some more contact between her legs, and on her chest. Definitely on her chest. "T-take it off," she managed to get out in a small break from the hard, passionate kiss. "M'bra. Off," she tried to clarify.

Again, not a task Santana was protesting or delaying on. Rising from Rachel's lips just enough to be able to see what she was doing, she fumbled at her back for the bra's clasp, undoing it and then peeling the straps down off Rachel's shoulders, pausing to kiss and lightly flick her tongue across her clavicle for each before lifting the bra off her breasts.

She swallowed audibly as Rachel's breasts came into view for her the first time in full. They were perfect, pale and exactly the right size in Santana's opinion, their nipples hardened already as Santana gently cupped them, still straddling Rachel's stomach as she bent over, having to slide herself down Rachel's legs and almost lie over her to position her mouth over her breast.

"Beautiful," she murmurred before lightly touching her tongue to Rachel's left nipple, still gently fingering her right breasts with her free hand.

Rachel shivered as her bra was removed, the air against her hot skin causing goosebumps to rise. But that was quickly ignored as Santana removed her bra completely.

In the few seconds where Santana was just looking, she had the intense urge to cover herself up, insecurities bubbling up quickly. However, as Santana began to touch her, softly but with purpose, shifting down and- Oh Gods. That was Santana's_mouth_.

Gasping, hips jerking up on their own accord, back arching once again and one hand going to Santana's hair as the other twisted into the covers of the bed. "_Fuck_" she swore, not even realizing the word had come out of her mouth. And the she registered Santana's words, and her heart swelled even as her legs parted to allow the Latina to lay between them.

When Santana had touched her chest over her clothes, it had been really good. But this direct contact, with nimble fingers playing with one hard nipple and the other being teased with the girl's tongue and lips? Rachel had never felt anything like it.

And it was _Santana Lopez_ causing all of it. That alone drove her wild, made it so much better knowing that the girl she loved, and loved her, was the one doing this with her.

As Santana slid herself down between Rachel's open legs, her lower abdomen pressing against Rachel's core, her hair fell forward, brushing the sides of Rachel's torso and the tops of her legs as she continued to work on Rachel's breasts. Her thumb continued to gently but firmly rub over one exposed nipple as her tongue mirrored the gesture on the other, occasionally flicking over the breast surrounding it before returning.

She grinned, having to pull back to laugh when she heard Rachel swear, briefly hiding her laughter by putting her face between the other girl's breasts. She was more pleased with herself over having gotten Rachel to swear even than by Rachel's body's reaction. For Rachel Berry to say "fuck" was probably one of Santana's greatest accomplishments to date, in her opinion.

Her breath tickling Rachel's skin as she swallowed back further laughter, she returned to her breasts, continuing to stimulate for another minute before working down lower, tickling the indent in between her breasts and navel before dipping her tongue in her navel as well. She wasn't sure if Rachel would like that, but she'd test it. And if she'd let her, well, she'd keep moving down.

It took Rachel a moment to realize what Santana was doing, as she was mostly just caught up in all the different sensations Santana was causing, and focusing on trying to breath regularly; it was difficult with the way Santana was manipulating her chest, though. She had known her chest to be rather sensitive, but she hadn't thought it was _that _sensitive.

As Santana moved lower, Rachel's breath hitched, and tensed, looking down at the girl between her legs, suddenly incredibly conflicted.

Was she ready for that? It seemed so soon- they weren't even really dating yet, were they? Santana hadn't asked, and neither had she, and— But… On the other hand, they did love each other… They had said it, and if the way she reacted to every little touch said anything, Rachel's _body _was certainly ready to go further than chest high…

Still, it was nerve wracking. Did Santana intend on just doing what Rachel had done? Penetrating her completely? Sex was still sex, of course, but one would surely hurt more than the other and if there were going to be fingers involved she definitely wanted Santana up next to her to cling to… Biting her lip, Rachel took a shuddering breath in, trying to relax a little.

She hated how nervous this was suddenly making her. It was _Santana_, after all… Though maybe that was part of it. Not in a bad way, just… in a way that, she didn't want to mess up somehow.

"I- Uh… O-okay." she finally affirmed, settling back again and letting her body's wants take over a little more. But she did take one of the girl's hands in her own, squeezing it, then arched her back a little as a shiver of anticipation and arousal ran through her. "K-keep going. _Please_." With her decision made, the haze of arousal was back, and she knew her underwear were ruined.

Santana paused when she felt Rachel tense in a new way,

a way that seemed attributable more to nerves or stress than to arousal. Removing her tongue from her navel, she lifted her head, meeting Rachel's eyes, but the other girl was taking a deep breath, reaching for her hand, and lying back down, seeming to have come to a decision.

As Rachel assured her to continue, Santana squeezed her hand back, lightly stroking her hand over her head, down across her neck, over her arm, her side, and across her stomach, then tracing down to her thigh. With that hand still on her thigh, she massaged slowly, to reassure and relax her muscles, then eased her legs slightly more apart, sliding herself further down between them so her head was level with Rachel's crotch. She continued to rub Rachel's leg for a few moments before easing down her underwear.

She took a moment to swallow, catching her breath, as her heartbeat sped up. Rachel was gorgeous….so friggin gorgeous, she couldn't think of what to say.

"Let me know if I need to stop," she muttered, even as she moved between her legs, gently stroking her fingers over Rachel's outer lips, just the outsides for now. Then she leaned in to lick, very lightly, barely moving her tongue around the outside before slipping it in, still being very careful and slow in her movements.

Letting herself relax into Santana's touch, her nerves easing at the pace and with each slow, firm pass of Santana's hand over her body. It anchored her, much like the hand in hers, and she knew she had made the right choice. She felt like she was being cared for, cared _about_, and it didn't long for her anxiety to melt away, eyes fluttering shut and a breathy moan escape her lips.

The next time her breath hitched, it was for an entirely differently reason than before, her hips jerking and a surprised, pleased little "Oh!" falling from her lips.

Santana had barely touched her, was barely touching her, but she felt a small flood of wetness at the contact already, hand squeezing Santana's as her toes curled again and her legs parted further. "That's… Oh my…" she murmured, barely aware that words were even being spoken from her lips.

Why had she waited so long again to let Santana touch her directly?

On the other hand, would it have felt nearly this good? Because she was pretty sure that just the fact that Santana was with her, officially or not, and loved her, was making a world of difference, and she felt her muscles quivering, heart rate picking up as she waited for Santana to do more.

Santana would have smiled, but her mouth was a bit busy. As Rachel reacted to her administrations, hips bucking, wetness already spreading over Santana's tongue, she squeezed the girl's hand back, her fingers starting to numb with her tight grip, but she didn't care. She loved this, loved making Rachel feel this…

She continued, avoiding Rachel's clitoris for the moment and instead slowly licking her inner walls, with just small strokes at first, then slightly faster, firmer, tracing small patterns. When she lifted her head briefly, panting, to catch her breath, then went back down, finding and touching the tip of her tongue to Rachel's clitoris, she was wet herself, her heart thudding in her chest.

By the time Santana tongued her clit, Rachel felt ready to scream. She was already moaning and whimpering just under her breath, head back and eyes closed as her body jumped and twitched in response to the stimulation at her core, skin flushed and a light coating of sweat starting to form as she got closer and closer to losing it.

She whined, just that side of desperate, as she felt Santana flick her clit with her tongue, the pleasure shooting through the small bundle of nerves and straight up her spine, back to the pit of her stomach as the tight coil of heat twisted and churned, and without thinking she brought her other hand, the one not in Santana's, up to her chest and began to pinch and pull at her nipple, almost roughly.

Santana's name fell from her lips in small, nearly incoherent sighs, and her hips had started a steady rolling, the pace increasing as she got closer. In the back of her mind she told herself that she'd really have to work on her self-control, so that she could last longer, but right now she was so turned on, and all these touches and feelings were so new and thrilling, that she wasn't even ashamed of how close she was already.

"C-close," she squeaked out, voice strained from arousal as she chest heaved and strands of hair stuck to her forehead as she threw her head to one side, biting her lip hard and digging the balls of her feet against the mattress. "S- oh God, San-"

Santana's nerves sparked with new heat as Rachel grabbed her chest and began to play with her nipple, in a nearly aggressive fashion that was unexpected but very, very enjoyable. Stifling a groan, she tightened her fingers in Rachel's hand even further, hearing something pop but unable to tell whether it was her joint or Rachel's making the noise.

Rachel was sweating, her skin slick and salty and erotic in taste and smell both, and Santana lightly dug her nails into her thigh, bearing down as she licked her clitoris again, with longer, harder pressure now, holding it for several seconds.

Rachel came with a scream, at least until it was choked off as her orgasm raced through her, much harder than her first one had been. Her hand on her tit flew back to the bed, twisting into the sheets tightly, her hips snapping up and back arching, toes curling and every single muscle tensing and tightening as her inner muscles trembled and quaked.

Trembling, body wracked with shocks of pleasure as every nerve ignited, Rachel swore she actually saw stars, and as she slowly came down, sound rushing back to her ears and heart beating wildly, breathing completely irregular and eyes closed, she felt as though she were floating.

That had definitely been too short… and yet so… _so good_. "Wow…." she murmured, dazed with pleasure, head still spinning from her orgasm. Then every muscle just… relaxed— melted, really, her grip on Santana's hand become completely laxed.

She felt like she should say more, but felt like she had completely forgotten how to make words. Her body was pleasantly heavy, and she was still experiencing aftershocks. Her breathing was finally starting to calm down, too, though her vision wouldn't focus, and her limbs felt like lead.

Santana wasn't so calm herself. Her breathing was catching and sputtering in her throat, her skin almost as warm as Rachel's to the touch, and she could feel her muscles still twitching slightly in her legs as she pulled back, giving Rachel and herself both room to breathe. After a few moments she lay down, her cheek against Rachel's thigh, her hand also loose in the other girl's as she lay her other hand on her opposite thigh, letting out a long sigh that tickled her bare skin. She didn't say anything for several moments, just enjoying herself and Rachel near her, her knowledge that she had given the girl so much pleasure, so fast.

"Now you know," she said at last, giving her hand a very lazy squeeze.

Smiling, pretty sure she looked completely smitten, Rachel hummed, giving a weak tug on their interlaced hands. "C'mere," she mumbled, cracking her eyes open just enough to see Santana. "Cuddle," she said again, giving another small tug.

Her world was finally starting to right itself more, and she was starting to cool down, the air on her quickly cooling skin making her shiver lightly, and she sighed.

On one hand, that had been absolutely fantastic and part of her really did wonder why she had waited so long. But, again, she was actually glad she did. It felt more right, and they finally went _all the way_, Rachel was sure it would feel even more right. Now, if Santana could just cuddle her for awhile, she'd be perfect.

"I'll…" she yawned a little, feeling sleepy, and yet not at the same time. "return favor later…" Rachel finished.

Sliding herself slowly up Rachel's body, Santana nestled in chest to chest with her, legs overlapping as she lay her head beneath Rachel's chin, wrapping her arms around the girl's back. Closing her eyes, she found herself unconsciously humming along with Rachel, not even aware of what the song was, but still joining in, in harmony.

She felt Rachel shiver beneath her and smirked to herself. How the girl could already be cold, when the only thing keeping Santana attached to her when she herself felt so overheated was that Rachel had asked for it and it still felt good, despite the heat, was beyond her. She squirmed a little, looking for cooler places in Rachel's skin to press her own flushed flesh against.

"K," she murmured back to Rachel, not really listening to her.

She could hardly believe this had just happened. Rachel had finally let her really touch her, go down on her, and had done the same for her. And it had been nothing short of amazing.

It didn't matter then that she was still worried about Brittany or upset over her household events, that she was still being harassed online and occasionally at school. It was still an awesome day.


	29. Chapter 29

Lyrics by Alanis Morissette and Leona Lewis. Do not own.

Texts

Santana: timed cameras rock :D

Rachel: I can't believe you convinced me to pose with you like that…

Santana: why? you're covered up. sadly

Rachel: It was so weird! And you were groping my ass the whole time. It was_ very distracting_. As was your lack of a bra.

Santana: You loved it ;)

Rachel: Well I liked being able to touch your chest, yes… And you look really good in the fem-butch look. Or just plaid. :)

Santana: I look good in everything baby ;) as do you. except the reindeer sweaters

Santana: (a few seconds later) sorry, sorry, teasing. not true

Rachel: That actually reminds me…I was thinking… maybe this weekend or some time we could go shopping…? I mean, I do trust your opinion, as far as fashion goes, and… And as long as you keep in mind my comfort, I would actually appreciate some help updating my wardrobe. If you want, I mean.

Santana:….hallefrigginlujah

Santana: thankyouthankyouthankyou

Rachel: Please don't make me regret this somehow… I want to look nice, but be comfortable. You can pull off dripping sex appeal everywhere you go, I can't…

Santana: yes you can!

Rachel: No, I really can't. I can look cute, and sexy when on stage or performing in glee. But it's not a constant thing. That's you.

Santana: Bullshit. You totally can. I'm not constantly "dripping sex appeal" anyway…just 90 percent of the time ;)

Rachel: No… no… It's definitely 100% of the time. Today in gym class I thought I was going to die when we were doing laps and you were in front of me…Have we always shared a gym period?

Santana: Uh, yeah? If I drip so much sex appeal I would think you'd notice THAT considering how we have to strip down every other day

Rachel: I think I was purposefully trying to ignore you…And I usually change in one of the toilet stalls to avoid the other girls calling me names or making crude commentary about my body. But anyway, you should run in front of me from now on. It's very good motivation.

Santana: Well they won't anymore. That I promise. Stand next to me and be proud, they're all jealous anyway. Motivation to run faster?

Rachel: Yes, Ms. Lopez. Although slapping my backside was not appropriate motivation. Also, would you like to go out for dinner with me Friday? Maybe after shopping? I can wear that small black dress you really like. My bruise has faded a lot.

Santana: It made you run faster, didn't it? Let's make it rent a movie? that conjuring thing looked cool

Rachel: And slapping my ass was the best way to do that, hm? So dinner and a movie? And that better not be a horror movie….

Santana: You got the message didn't you?

Santana: No, shopping and movie. no, Rachel, it's a love movie called Conjuring. they're conjuring like, hearts and flowers.

Rachel: My face was red all of next period… I suppose we can have lunch at the mall or something, then. Also, I don't believe you.

Santana: Ass too? ;)

Santana: Rachel...the food. Drop it.

Santana: No, totally. It's cupid and he conjures up love items to make people fall in love. I swear

Rachel: …Moving on.

Rachel: No.

Rachel: You're an oddly terrible liar… Can't we watch something cute?

Santana: Yes to drop it. No to something cute.

Rachel: I love you.

Santana: (long time responding) Please back off.

Rachel: You're beautiful, inside and out, and I love you. Every part of you. Even the parts you don't like yourself. I love you.

Santana: Rachel…stop.

Rachel: I can't do that, Santana. You don't love yourself, and you should. So until you do, I'll love you enough for the both us. And I'll remind you of that, every day if I have to, that you're beautiful, and loved, and cared for.

Santana: (five minutes before responding) I love you too.

Rachel: I know. Believe it or not, you remind me of those same things every day, as well. Loving you isn't always easy, Santana, but it's worth it. YOU'RE worth it. You're worth the world, truly. Exactly how you are, imperfections and all.

Santana: So we're going to rent Conjuring right?

Rachel: After dinner.

Santana: WHATEVER JESUS

Rachel: Thank you. Now go to bed, dear. We have school in the morning and I plan on wearing one of my short skirts and knee highs, since I can do that again. Try not to drool when I walk by your locker, okay? ;)

Santana: you're mean, Berry

Rachel: I'm learning from the best, dearest. ;) I can only hope I don't accidentally drop anything. You know how clumsy I can be sometimes.

Santana: I'm knocking your books out your arms every time I see you just for this

Rachel: No you won't. You'd make me a sad, then, and give everyone else a chance for a free show. Unless that's your goal, of course. I wasn't aware you liked sharing?

Santana:….you really are mean. Fine. I'll carry one of those folders they put around elementary kids so they don't cheat- by the way, I figured out how to totally work around those back then- and hold it up to your ass so I get a tunnel vision view, SNAP

88

(that night)

Rachel: you called me your girlfriend today in Glee...isn't that a bit premature of an assumption?

Santana: well you are, right?

**Santana:** my girlfriend?

**Rachel:** Well I certainly would love to be. But I believe I have not been properly asked as of yet :)

**Santana:** you mean I have to do that?

**Rachel:** ...Why wouldn't you...?

**Santana:** I thought you already knew that

**Rachel:** um... what do you mean...?

**S:** I didn't know I had to ask. I thought we already knew

**Rachel:** It's always nice to be asked. I can ask you, if you'd prefer.

**S:** so, want to be my girlfriend then?

**Rachel:** I'd be insulted if we didn't already have a tradition of saying all the important things via some form of text.

**Rachel:** Yes, Santana. I would love to be your girlfriend.

**Rachel:** And thank you for not actually knocking my books out of my arms today.

**S:** I should have. I still think you're mean

**Rachel:** You love me :)

**Rachel:** And my ass ;)

**S:** mphm. you won't always get your way, Tiny.

**Rachel:** We'll see~ 3

**S:** you're never getting your way again. This is the last time so you better enjoy it

**Rachel:** So you won't cuddle me, kiss me, go on dates with me, make out with me, sing with me, go for walks with me, take naps with me, do homework with me, watch movies with me, go out for coffee with me, go shopping with me, etc, etc, etc?

**S:** that's getting my way, not yours

**Rachel:** Oh, look, we match. Guess I get my way, too :)

**Rachel:** 3

**S:** ...that made no sense

**S:** you're not getting your way anymore if I don't also want what you want. got it?

**Rachel:** Someone's getting rather assertive.

**Rachel:** Do I have to say "yes, ma'am", too? Maybe bend over and let you spank me if I'm naughty?

**S:** maybe.

**Rachel:** Only one word answers now? Have I left the great Santana Lopez speechless? Little ol' me?

**S:** I mean it. You don't get your way anymore.

**S:** speak of assertive, you take tease juice this afternoon or what?

**Rachel:** It was dad's birthday tonight. They went out when we did, and when I got home we all had wine and watch Barbra work her magic on the TV. :)

**Rachel:** I'm... giggly. Yes. Giggly.

**S:** that explains a lot.

**S:** the term is "wasted," Berry

**Rachel:** I'm not wasted! My typing is perfectly legible.

**Rachel:** I am giggly.[thirty seconds later]

**Rachel:** You'd be a really hot teacher. with glasses. and stuff.S...

**S:** if you're not wasted, then I am scared.

**S:** good night, Rachel.

**Rachel:** Did I make you mad? Please don;t be mad

**Rachel:** I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me

**Rachel:** I'll be quiet now, Just don't be mad at me

**Rachel:** I get sad when you're mad at me

**Rachel:** I'm sorry

**S:** don't worry about it, just go to sleep alright

**Rachel:** You're mad... Did I do something bad? I did, didn;t I? This is why I don't drink. I say stupid things. I'm sorry.

**S:** no. this isn't about tonight, don't worry about it. just go to sleep

**Rachel:** Okay... I love you, you know. I know maybe it doesn't mean as much because of the wine, but I really do love you. And I'm sorry I made you mad. I'll be better, okay? I promise.

**S:** You're not gonna make me do stuff I don't want to?

**Rachel:** I never want to make you do stuff you really don't want to... 'Cause I love you. But eating is really important if you died or went to the hospital I don't know what I'd do... Besides cry. I'd probably cry a lot. But that;s the only thing. Otherwise I'd never force you to do something you weren't comfortable with.

**S:** good night Rachel

**Rachel:** Please don't be angry at me... I don't want to cry tonight...

**S:** there's no reason to cry, chill out

**Rachel:** I miss you... But you're mad at me... It feels like a good reason to cry... I just became your girlfriend and you're angry because of me...

**S:** Rachellllllll jesus, just stop it. I said forget it

**Rachel:** Why do you hate me now...

**S:** I don't hate you, I just asked you to be my girlfriend for god's sake. you're drunk, go sleep

**Rachel:** I wanna cuddle with you though...

**S:** It's like 3 am. go to bed!

88

(next morning)

Santana: Hangover, I'm guessing?

Rachel: Sure.

Santana:….what kind of response is that?

Rachel:What does it look like?

Santana: okay hold up. Why are YOU pissed at ME?

Rachel: I'm not pissed.

Santana: well you're acting like it.

Rachel: I'll try to be happier the next time you make me cry. Really.

Santana: You ARE pissed. You only cried because you were drunk. I didn't do anything to you

Rachel: I'm glad you know my feelings and emotions better than I do. You're right. It was the two glasses of wine talking. I should remember from now on that you're always right.

Santana: …..I didn't do anything!

Rachel: You snapped and shut down on me for _no reason at all_. I _still _don't know what I did. And while I admit I was overly emotional due to the alcohol it doesn't change the fact that I apologized continuously and _then _you tried making me agree to essentially not care when you _starve _ that clear enough? Did I miss anything?

Santana: I did not. Exactly.

Rachel: When you decide to have an actual conversation with me feel free to get back to me. I'm emotionally spent and I'm not going to fight with you about this. I don't know what I keep doing wrong, but if you decide to actually talk about it instead of just assuming or believing I should know exactly what to do all the time, consider me actually listening. Until then, please, just… Just don't.

Santana:….WHAT? You're breaking up?! I didn't do anything!

(immediate phone call)

**Santana (on phone):** Why are you breaking up with me? I didn't say anything mean to you! I just told you I want you to stop telling me what to do!

**Rachel:** [heavy sigh] I'm NOT breaking up with you, Santana...

**S:** You told me not to talk to you! I didn't even do anything but tell you to stop telling me what to do and go to sleep because you're wasted off your ass and you're all pissed off at me now and telling me not to talk to you!

**Rachel:** If I told you I had started trying to make myself throw up again, what would you do?

**S:** (pause) Are you?**Rachel:** Answer the question, Santana.

**S:** No, I wanna know if you are, Rachel. You're not, are you? Why would you be? What the hell, I've been trying to not say anything about how you look!

**Rachel:** Answer. The. Question. And for your sake I'm ignoring the last part of that.

**S:** Don't be doing that Rachel, jesus. I thought you said you couldn't. You don't have any reason to, I think you're totally hot, okay? If I say shit about your clothes or whatever just ignore it...you know I don't really mean it. Usually.

**Rachel:** Stop telling me what to do.

**S:** No, I will tell you what to do, damn it, don't start that shit, okay? Rachel...you don't have any reason to do that, do you hear me?

**Rachel:** Back off, Santana. It's none of your business.

**S:** It fucking is! If you're doing shit like that and won't tell me about it, it is my business because you're my girlfriend, your shit is my shit!

**Rachel:** Let that sink in for a moment, Santana.

**S:** (sucks in breath) You're lying to me. You aren't doing that. You just...you're just trying to make a point.

**S:** That...that's not being fair. It's not the same thing, Rachel.

**Rachel:** Feel free to tell me how it's different, then. What's the different between me starving myself to try and be prettier, and you doing it?

**S:** It...just is. I'm not...it's not just to be don't need to do it, I do. I have to, okay?

**Rachel:** I can't just stop caring about you, Santana... When you're hurting, it hurts me, too. So I'm going to worry, and be scared. You can't expect me to do otherwise...

**Santana:** I didn't say...you don't have to stop caring about me. I just want you to leave me alone over stuff. That's all.

**Rachel:** Would you rather I be honest and tell me when I'm scared or upset, or just keep it quiet and pretend I'm okay all the time?

**S:** (quiet for a few moments) I don't know. Like...about me or about you?

**Rachel:** It's the same thing, Santana. 'Your shit is my shit', as you phrased it.

**Santana:** It's just different, Rachel. You don't get how it's different. You would be...it wouldn't be the same thing for you, you don't get it.

**Rachel:** Then PLEASE, Santana. HELP me get it. Help me understand it. I'm begging you. You're right. I don't have any solid knowledge of this. I understand disliking your body, and having self esteem issues, but I've never dealt with an actual eating disorder. So now, I don't really understand it. But I WANT to. I want to understand it because I want to understand you.

**S:** It's not an eating disorder! I'm not fucking DISORDERED. I'm not one of those stupid pathetic girls who goes around whining and slitting at her wrists because Daddy didn't love her enough and Mama told her not to eat dessert when she was eight and grandma told her she looked like a dirty little boy when she was five or whatever else, I'm not that stupid and weak, I'm Santana Lopez! I'm not in the same fucking boat as Mary-Kate Olson and Paula Abdul, don't even try to go there!

**Rachel:** Alright... ...Can I ask you something?

**Santana:** ...what?

Rachel: Come to the auditorium tomorrow after school? Please.

Santana: ...is this an intervention 'cause I can outrun you any day and you know it, and I'm taking anyone down who gets in my way.

Rachel: Please just come Santana...please?

Santana:...okay.

Rachel: Thank you. I love you. I'll see you tomorrow.

Santana: ...okay...

88

Emailed lyrics

To: Rachel Berry

From: Santana Lopez

**It's like this.**

**"Would Not Come"**

if I make a lot of tinsel then people will want to  
if I am hardened no fear of further abandonment  
if I am famous then maybe i'll feel good in this skin  
if I am cultured my words will somehow garner respect  
i would throw a party still it would not come  
i would bike run swim and still it would not come  
i'd go travelling and still it would not come  
I would starve myself and still it would not come  
if I'm masculine I will be taken more seriously  
if I take a break it would make me irresponsible  
if i'm elusive I will surely be sought after often  
if I need assistance then I must be incapable  
i'd be filthy rich and still  
it would not come  
I would seduce them and still  
it would not come  
I would drink vodka and still  
it would not come  
i'd have an orgasm still  
it wouldn't come  
if I accumulate knowledge  
i'll be inpenetrable  
if I am aloof no one will know  
when they strike a nerve  
if I keep my mouth shut the boat  
will not have to be rocked  
if I am vulnerable I will be  
trampled upon  
i would go shopping and still  
it would not come  
i'd leave the country and still  
it would not come  
i would scream and rebel still  
it would not come  
i would stuff my face and still  
it would not come  
i'd be productive and still it would not come  
i'd be celebrated still it would not come  
i'd be the hero and still it would not come  
i'd renunciate and still it would not come

88

Rachel sat in the auditorium on the edge of the stage, a stereo next to her and feet swinging back and forth as they dangled from the edge. Of course she would have preferred a live band, but she had promised that this would be private, so she had simply gotten the track for the song she wanted without any vocals (though she had put in her own backup harmonies on it), and now she just needed to wait.

She had read the lyrics Santana had sent her, and, well, if there was one thing Rachel understood, it was speaking through music. Santana didn't have to sing to her for her to understand what she meant, but Rachel was certainly going to sing herself.

Lunch had just started a couple of minutes ago, so she figured Santana would be there soon. As she waited, she hummed to herself, trying to quell her nerves.

She had only practiced the song a few times (once in the morning, three times during her free period, and again a few minutes ago, having gotten there early). She didn't have any set choreography, or a speech planned, nothing. This was easily one of the most impromptu performances she had ever done, and also one of the most important.

Rachel just hoped Santana would listen; _really _listen. The diva had gone through nearly her entire catalog of songs, and this seemed the like most appropriate. It said essentially everything she couldn't quite put into words, or had tried and gotten shot down for it.

Thus, singing. If nothing else, Rachel knew for a fact that Santana (no one, really) could ignore her when she sang.

88

Santana had a feeling that this "surprise" Rachel had for her in the auditorium was something to be dreaded.

The girl had promised her she didn't have a group singalong prepared, and she damn well better be telling the truth, was all Santana had to say about it. If she sprung an entire group of people singing some overly earnest ballad about HER, she was going to kill her, girlfriend or not. Or at the very least she wasn't going to cuddle her for a whole month. Well, at least a week.

She knew that it would probably be something equally over the top and well-intended but ultimately uncomfortable and embarrassing, though. With their locking horns over Santana's eating recently and Rachel's repeatedly voiced concern, there was no telling what she would think of to do to make yet another point. What Rachel didn't understand was the more Santana talked about it or knew other people noticed or thought about it, or the more she felt pressure from them to stop, the more anxious it made her, and the more she felt compelled to continue. She knew Rachel didn't know that and couldn't know that, and she had no real solutions to give the girl that Rachel would be willing to answer. All Santana wanted was for her to just ignore it, forever, but that didn't seem something Rachel was capable of.

As she walked into the auditorium, she saw that Rachel was sitting on the stage, a stereo nearby her, and her heartbeat quickened. She KNEW it. Looking around for others to step out from the curtains, she said tightly as she came closer to the stage, "Rachel, you said there wasn't gonna be a group number."

Hopping off the stage, rolling her eyes, Rachel met Santana half way and leaned up a bit to peck her on the lips before taking her hand, leading her up the steps, to where a black show chair was placed on stage left of the precinium. "It's not," she finally replied, pushing on Santana's shoulders to get the girl to sit down, then making her way to the stereo.

"Well, a group number. It's not a group. But it is a number." She turned towards her girlfriend, giving a small, somewhat anxious smile, and shrugged. "You used lyrics to give me an idea of what's going on in your hand. I think it's completely fair that I do the same. The only difference is that I'm going to sing to you- for you."

Without another word, she bent down, and pressed play on the stereo.

Soft, opening notes filled the auditorium, and no more than 15 seconds later, Rachel took a deep breath, and began to sing.

"_A place to crash, I got you. No need to ask, I got you. Just get on the phone, I got you…" _She sang softly, matching the melody perfectly, and took a few, slow steps towards Santana, taking both the girl's hands in hers and squeezing them. _"Gonna pick you up, if I have to…"_

Taking a step back, letting Santana's hands in hers still, she went on. _"What's weird about it, is we're right at the end… Mad about it. Just figured it out in my head…"_ She kissed Santana's knuckled softly,_ "I'm proud to say… I got you."_

Then she knelt down in front of the girl as the chorus came up. She had chosen to sing a slower version of the song, to better with the level of intimacy she wanted to keep. This was, after all, for no one else but Santana. "_Go ahead and say goodbye… I'll be alright. Go ahead and make me cry… I'll be alright. And when you need a place, to run to, for better for worse, I got you. I got you…" _

Then she stood, stepping away from Santana and letting their hands fall, maintaining as much eye contact as Santana would let her. _"In falling apart, or bitter… Let's be bigger than that, and remember, the cooling outdoor, when you're all alone. Won't survive it, no drama no need for a show.. Just wanna say, I got you."_

The music picked up then as she went into the sequences of the chorus, belting out the lines with more passion and sincerity than she had in awhile. She needed to somehow make Santana see that, push or pull or shove, Rachel wouldn't leave. They were such a new couple, but Rachel never did anything half way- especially not when it came to something, or someone, she loved.

As the bridge came on, she sang out, voice strong, even as tears welled up in her eyes._ "Cause this is love and life and nothing we can both control… And if it don't feel right, you're not losing me by letting me know… oohh… Ooohh… Oo-ooh…"_ The music swelled, and Rachel took both Santana's hands once more, pulling her off the chair and to the center of the stage as she sang. _"Sooo go ahead and say goodbye. I'll be alright. Go ahead and make me cry, I'll be alright. And when you need a place, to run to, for better for worse, I got you."_ She led Santana in a simple dance as the back up vocals of her own voice picked up, and as the song slowed, coming to an end, so did the dance she was leading Santana in, and she stepped in close, looking up at Santana as she sang the final words softly.

_"A place to crash… I got you… No need to ask… **I got you**…" _The music came to a slow end, and the auditorium was quiet.

As soon as Rachel had explained that she was going to sing to her, then basically pushed her into a chair on the stage, Santana had felt herself tensing up, already expecting the worst. True, Rachel singing a ballad alone wasn't as bad as the whole group. But someone could still walk in, or she might record it and play it for the group later, or just…it was still so much attention and concern and forced focus, all of it screaming out that she was doing it because she thought something was wrong, because she thought Santana needed help. A musical intervention.

She should never have sent those damn lyrics.

But Santana also knew that a determined Rachel was hard to escape from, and any protests would have probably lead with her getting louder and more insistent and the chances of someone walking in on them that much higher. She would just grit her teeth through this, nod and smile, and walk away deleting it from memory.

When Rachel first began to sing, chills rolled down her spine, as they so often did when the girl sang in relative quiet and simplicity, just low music and her voice, nothing else to detract from her sheer talent. She tried at first not to listen to the words, but it was impossible. Rachel's voice was clear and pure, and she understood it. All of it. And the emotion in her voice made the sincerity of her words that much stronger.

As Rachel took her hands, looking her in the eyes, Santana tried to drop her eyes to her side, not wanting the girl to see that she was swallowing, her cheeks and neck beginning to flush with feeling she was trying to suppress. But when Rachel pulled her up, continuing to dance with her, her hands gently holding Santana's as she continued to sing, Santana found progressively harder to do.

This was so Rachel, so entirely and completely Rachel.

As Rachel finished her song, stepping closer to Santana, waiting for her reaction, Santana tried to think of what exactly her reaction should . Whether she should nod and smile and thank her and then change the subject, or give her a quick hug or kiss as well. Whether she should hold eye contact or look away, just in case Rachel saw some emotion in her eyes that shouldn't be there at all. But when she opened her mouth, lifting both eyes and chin to respond in the distant, controlled way she had in mind, a sob broke out instead, and as Santana's hand moved up to cover her mouth, shocked, tears began to stream unchecked down her cheeks. The hand covering her mouth slid upward to spread across her eyes instead, and she reached her other hand out blindly for Rachel, grasping the first part of her she touched.

"I…I love you," was what she said instead.

Rachel took Santana's flailing hand quickly, squeezing it as she drew the girl into a tight hug, unsure of how to respond besides, "I love you, too," and just holding the other girl securely.

Were she honest with herself, she hadn't expected that. She had expected a fairly emotional response, but part of her had a feeling it would lean more towards the angry, annoyed, or frustrated side of things. Still, was unexpected, Rachel would be lying if she said she wasn't glad to see some sort of crack in Santana's armor. They were more frequent now, but the cheerleader still managed to seal herself up tightly a lot of the time, barely letting Rachel in more than a few inches before shoving her away again.

But, as the song said, Rachel would always come back. Santana could scream and growl and bite as much as she wanted or needed to. Rachel wasn't going anywhere. "You're stuck with me, okay?" she finally said, whispering. "I love you, and I'm here when you need me, however or whenever that is."

It didn't take Santana more than a few minutes to recompose herself. But in those couple of minutes that she let Rachel hold her, her hand still pressed against her eyes, she felt the aching in her heart and chest that had developed as soon as Rachel pulled her on stage begin to grow smaller, closing up just a little.

When she pulled away, somewhat self-consciously wiping at her eyes and cheeks with the heel of her palm, Santana found it hard to look Rachel in the eyes. It was so much easier to be angry or condescending towards her than to feel…this. And what was it she was feeling? It wasn't exactly happiness or pride, or even relief…Santana had no words for it, other than maybe soft. She felt soft, strangely exposed, as though her insides had been flipped outward for Rachel to see, even without her saying more than three words. And for right now, at least, it was just a little bit okay with he.

"Couldn't just write it down, could you?" she said, managing a small smile towards her. "Have to go for the big production."

Rachel offered a small smile in return, caressing Santana's cheeks lightly. "You love it when I sing," she replied, moving in to then kiss the girl, keeping the pressure light, allowing Santana to pull back or deepen it at her will.

As always, Rachel swore sparks flew when their lips touched. It made her heart speed up and her cheeks flush every time, and a pleasant sort of warmth explore in her chest. There we a lot of thing she could have called the feeling, but she preferred the word love above all else. She loved Santana, as much as a 17 year old can love, she supposed, and sometimes it came on so strong her heart ached from it.

Sometimes she wondered if they burned too hot and fast, got too cold and went back and forth too easily. But, well, that was them. They were two equally passionate and stubborn people. There were bound to be explosions.

But also fireworks.

Santana kissed Rachel back, lightly at first, then more fully, soft, exploring her more than demanding from her. One hand slowly stroked up her back, starting at her shoulder blades, and took a handful of Rachel's hair, but she didn't pull, just tangling her fingers in its locks.

She didn't let herself think about what it meant, Rachel's offer, or what it mean for her, or the inspiration behind it. She didn't think about how within the next fifteen minutes or so she would have to put up her usual outer armor over the softness she was feeling now, and show no indication that this had happened or what it meant for her to anyone or anything, Rachel included. She just kissed Rachel back, then let her cheek come to rest pressed against hers.

A few minutes was allowed.

Sighing contently, Rachel didn't release Santana until her internal clock told her that there was only a little bit before the end of lunch. So, leaning back, giving one last chaste kiss to Santana's lips, she smiled and brought a hand up to tap Santana's nose.

"Alright, now that we've gotten some of that out of the way, let's hope we can go two or three days without crying or yelling at each other," she said, teasing lightly. "We've five minutes until the warning bell, which is five minutes to transform ourselves back into what McKinley expects us to be. Except dating. As they didn't expect that."

She felt a little lighter now, having gotten some of the heaviness off her chest. And Santana didn't seem angry at her for the song, so that was nice, as well.

"Walk me to class, please?" she asked with a bright smile, fluttering her eyelashes for effect.

"I swear, you're trying to convert me into you," Santana shot back, shaking her head, but she didn't let go right away. "Singing all those sob songs and doing your Bambi eyes at me all the time…you probably rub your icicle feet on me on purpose you can freeze out my brain and make it start malfunctioning."

She pulled back again then, long enough to finish rearranging herself into a more suitably Santana expression and appearance, and she began to feel more normal as her appearance changed to meet her standards. She was already walking off the stage when Rachel asked her to walk her to class. Smirking at her transparent "innocence," she poked her shoulder, but nodded nevertheless.

"You're walking me next time. Just because I'm taller doesn't mean I always play the guy role. I do have the bigger boobs."

Smiling, putting her arm through Santana's, Rachel rolled her eyes. "There can't be a 'guy role' when we're both women, Santana. That's rather heteronormative of you. Also, we've agreed that I am your princess and you are my knight." Then as she opened the doors to the halls, which were still empty, she went on. "But, I suppose you are more than worthy of being equally wooed, so to speak."

Leaning into Santana's shoulder a little, Rachel giggled. "Though, I would like to remind you that I paid for the last date in full. I think we're rather equal. Even if you are more aggressive. Bedroom activities included." Which was fine, because it was nice for someone else to take the lead in that department. And Rachel definitely didn't mind that sort of aggressiveness from her girlfriend at all.

"WHICH reminds me, you are _also _the one that does all the ass slapping." Were it not Santana, Rachel definitely would not have allowed it. Somehow the Latina made it sexy, instead of mortifying or degrading.

Rachel wasn't going to look too much into that, though.

"When did we agree on that, exactly?" Santana raised an eyebrow as she hooked her arm through Rachel's as well, pulling her close. "I don't remember that one. And that's giving me a guy role. Again."

As Rachel continued on, reminding her that although she last paid, Santana was the aggressive one, as well as the ass slapper, Santana grinned, reaching to pinch her aforementioned ass for effect. "You paid because you were forcing me to go. You like me being aggressive, or at least your multiple screams and orgasms said so. And if you want me to stop slapping your ass, you gotta make it less sexy."

Rachel squeaked as her ass was slap, blushing and thanking God that the hall was only just starting to fill with students going to their lockers. She stopped at her own, speaking as she unlocked it and grabbed her things. "You enjoyed the date, at least the movie portion, yes I enjoy your aggressiveness very much, in that sense at least, and I can't do that. Besides, I like being able to distract you with it too much. Along with my legs." It was why she was wearing one of her short skirts and her knee eyes, along with a new off-the-shoulder blouse.

Between the two of them they had figured out where Rachel's comfort levels were, and just how much skin, and where that skin was, she was okay with showing off.

Besides, it was fun to wear the off-the-shoulder tops for after school. Santana would kiss her there and along her neck, and that felt _really _good.

The warning bell rang, and they reached Rachel's class soon after stopping at Santana's locker. Biting her lip, then deciding she might as well (she was still getting used to Santana being okay with showing affection towards her in public), Rachel kissed Santana's cheek. "I'll see you in Glee. Be good and don't break anyone's face, okay?" With that she turned on her heel and went into her classroom.

It was definitely true that Santana rather enjoyed Rachel's new wardrobe. She has pushed her to try for a wider range of somewhat modest yet subtly sexy clothes that suggested more than they revealed, which happened to drive Santana crazy if she wasn't careful. It definitely wasn't a bad problem to have.

As they parted, Santana's cheek still vaguely feeling the imprint of Rachel's lips, she had to fight back a smile as she went towards her went towards her own classroom. She really didn't know how it was that Rachel could make her feel such a range of emotion within one hour, but somehow, she seemed to manage quite often.


	30. Chapter 30

Texts

Santana: Soooo I was thinking about possible ways to liven things up a bit...and I was thinking. You let me use the camera the other day...and we could try that again. With snakes. Snakes could be fun ;)

Rachel: That easily falls under animal cruelty. Absolutely not.

Santana: The snakes would love it, trust me

Rachel: No. I consider myself a very adventurous and open-minded individual, but I am absolutely not allowing any animals of any kind (nor reptiles!) into our bedroom activities, Santana!

Santana: You're so mean. Denying me my fantasy.

Rachel: For all you know I'm deathly afraid of them. Besides, seriously Santana? Out of all possibilities you pick snakes?

Santana: Yes. Yes, I would. I'd make sure you were too busy having fun to be afraid ;)

Rachel: Santana. No animals. Period. Done. No more discussion. Find some other fantasy.

Santana: You really are mean :( How about anal then? Anal doesn't hurt if you do it right

Rachel: Not consenting to something that seems _incredibly _uncomfortable and awkward and possibly painful in a not enjoyable way is not _mean. _

_Rachel: …_I'd… be willing to try that. I suppose. Well, I mean, eventually. We haven't even, you know. But anyway. Um. Yeah.

Santana: Britney Spears is still alive. She looks like she had fun.

Santana: Really? Wanky.

Santana: So…you and Brit aren't really…still not talking? Damn.

Rachel: That was a music video, Santana. It is not based on reality. Also, you would need a penis for that though, wouldn't you?

Rachel: We weren't really friends outside of Glee before… this. And I mean, well, I'm not sure how… I'm afraid this is something I'm not sure how to go about.

Santana: It was a real snake and it was a cool color…I would totally love to have a pink snake in bed. Wankyyyy

Santana: …baby, trust me, we would adjust

Santana: Just…talk to her. Do your Rachel thing. I mean…she's still sad. It kind of makes me feel bad too. I don't know what to do either.

Rachel: No.

Rachel: I'm afraid I don't understand. How do you possibly adjust for something like that? I mean, you certainly can't use your whole hand or anything. Well, I suppose you _could _but I'd rather you _not_…

Rachel: I'm really not sure she wants anything to do with me, Santana… You don't… Nevermind. I know the answer to that and I know better than to ask. My point is, I'll… try. I admit, it's selfish of me to not be helping you get your best friend back. I suppose I've… just gotten used to being able to have you whenever I need you. I know how stupid this sounds, but right now you're _my _best friend, even though I'm not yours.

Santana: MEAN. If I was drinking, you would make me cry, Berry :p

Santana: …..lmfao you really just don't have the faintest idea about lesbian sex, do you?

Santana: What aren't you asking?

Santana: Rachel…you're right, she's my best friend. She always will be. I promised and I mean it. And I need her in my life. It really makes me sad when she's sad. But I love you. You know that.

Rachel: No offense, dear, but a lot of things make you cry when you drink. And by a lot of things I mean everything, so…

Rachel: You're the first woman I've ever dated… So… no? I suppose I could do some research at some point…

Rachel: Nothing. It's fine.

Rachel: And I'm not questioning your love for me. I know you love me, I do. It's just… You have me, your girlfriend, and Brittany, your best friend. I just… I just have you, my girlfriend AND my best friend. But that's no excuse for me to be selfish. I'll try and talk to Brittany this week, okay? I'm not sure what I'm going to say or do, but I promise to help you make her less sad, if I can.

Santana: Shut up.

Santana: or some PRACTICE?

Santana: No, what?

Santana: But what about Kurt and Artie? I thought they were your best friends?

Rachel: Being honest, love.

Rachel: Um… baby steps?

Rachel: It's nothing, Santana. Honestly. Just let it be.

Rachel: Kurt has been having a lot of his own issues right now and we haven't spoken for weeks. And Artie and I have just recently started becoming friends, but we haven't been able to speak much at all since Sectionals. They're friends, yes. But not best friends. As I said, you're my best friend, Santana. You were my best friend before we even started dating. I know it's not the same as you and Brittany, given how long you have known each other and been close, but you're the closes thing to a best friend I've ever had.

Santana: I don't cry over everything. Anyway you cry like a friggin crocodile when you're drunk.

Santana: We can go with that ;)

Santana: But that's just wrong. I shouldn't be your best friend. I don't even…that's not right.

Rachel: I never said I wasn't also an emotional person when drinking.

Rachel: Thank you. We'll have to find time, I suppose.

Rachel: I'm not sure what else you want me to say about it, Santana.

Santana: Yeah, well, you're way worse than me.

Santana: No suppose, we're gonna. ASAP.

Santana: I didn't earn that right.

Rachel: That can be debated.

Rachel: We both have very active schedules, Santana.

Rachel: I understand if you don't want the position, but you did earn it. Otherwise you wouldn't have it. I'm sorry?

Santana: You are! You practically drown me!

Santana: I'll drop everything to sleep with you again, are you serious?

Santana: Why would you be sorry?

Rachel: You seem to stick around anyway, despite your near death experiences with me. We have drowning and freezing to death, thus far.

Rachel: I would prefer my second time to be just as romantic, you know… Not just you overly eager to start ticking off your fantasy checklist….

Rachel: I don't know… Because you don't want to be my best friend but you are anyway…?

Santana: Yeah not to mention about making me stop breathing ;)

Santana: …did you see that? You're such a little sneak, Berry.

Santana: It's not that I don't want to be…it should just be someone who's…well, nicer to you.

Rachel: Wait when did I do that?

Rachel: … If you're trying to make me upset and not want to sleep with you, you're doing a fantastic job.

Rachel: Yes, well, in a perfect world, I suppose. Though you are nice to me. I mean, I assume it's largely because we're dating, but still.

Santana: Every time we sleep together, when else?

Santana:….I'm…kidding?

Santana: I suck to you, Rachel. I know that. I try and everything now but it is what it is.

Rachel: Well you are being a little mean, yes… But you don't suck. You came over at 9 at night on a school night to cuddle with me despite how much you hate it. So that's something. You also walk me to class, let me walk you to class, kiss me on the cheek at school, and hug me, and you let me sing you that song, etc, etc. I could continue.

Rachel: Well…I don't hate it.

Rachel: I'm glad. I simply assumed given how much you complain about the suffocation/cold/etc.

Santana: Maybe I'm a masochist ;)

Rachel: Please stop mocking me…

Santana: I'm not…much.

Rachel: I honestly don't understand how you manage to be so sweet and wonderful when we're face to face, and then spend the majority of the time we communicate via text insulting and mocking me.

Santana: …take yourself seriously much, would you

Rachel: I'm not sure how it's a bad thing to want to hear some positive reinforcement when it comes to our relationship/spending time together that isn't just caused by either of us being over-emotional or anons asking about it.

Santana: ….first off, I barely understand you. Second off, I've told you I love you like a million times. I tell you you're hot all the time. what more do you want?

Rachel: To have an actual conversation that doesn't involve you making fun of my idols, my body temperature, my music, my fathers, how I spend my time, my hobbies, etc, etc. The only reason you stopped making fun of what I wear is because I blew up at you and then finally let you take me shopping. It's like you actually need to step on a landmine to realize you're in a minefield, or something. Except all the mines are over 100 yards apart and you're actively trying to find each and every one. Not to mention your attitude towards how I feel about sex, especially after we've had it, isn't funny in the least. And it upsets me that you can tease me for it so carelessly and without even blinking.

Santana: Rachel, that's just how I talk. Why you have so many friggin landmines anyway? You always do this. You always get pissed off all of a sudden and it's not even a big deal, it's just me TALKING. That's how I talk to everyone, you KNOW that.

Rachel: Then why would you possibly talk to me like you talk to them?

Santana: I already said, that's how I talk to everyone. And anyway I don't tell them that I love them, I don't tell them the same kind of emotional feelings crap I do you, so you're not even right

Rachel: It's not how you talk to Brittany! And God I know how petty that sounds but it's _true_. You don't even _acknowledge_that I'm upset except to _complain about it_. And then you blow it off and just tell me to suck it up and stop being so over-dramatic. Well newflash Santana, I'm a dramatic person. I sing and I gush over Barbra Streisand and wear my heart on my sleeve. If you honestly can't stand who I am then for God sakes _why are you even with me at all?_

Rachel: ….you're pissed off at me because you're jealous of BRITTANY?! News flash, Rachel, I chose YOU! I could have stayed with Brittany and I didn't, I broke her heart, I made her fucking cry because I chose YOU! Every day I see her she's sad and it kills me but I STILL CHOSE YOU. Don't start telling me I don't like you enough or treat you how you want because you KNOW who I am, I've been telling you I'm a bitch since I've known you, it's not my fault if you expect me to change! I let you kiss me in public, I stopped making fun of your clothes, I tell everyone you're my girl and they can't touch you, HOW MUCH ELSE DO YOU THINK I CAN DO?

Rachel: IT'S NOT BRITTANY.

Rachel: Are you- DO YOU EVER listen/read a WORD I SAY?

Rachel: I want to be treated like you love me! I don't understand how that's so difficult. You can bitch to whomever you want but _how can you POSSIBLY believe it's okay to be a bitch TO ME_?

Rachel: And you have skipped the part regarding sex as well.

Santana: It is Brittany, you wouldn't say her name if it wasn't! You're always walking around convinced I'm thinking about her but you're the one who won't stop thinking about her!

Santana: I do treat you like I love you! I'm way nicer to you than anyone else, do you know how many times I bite my tongue in a single day with you?! And as for sex, you aren't exactly a virgin anymore, we already did some sex stuff so what's the big deal? I had sex when I was fourteen, if you really love me and you've already done some sex why are you so sensitive over it, I'm not making fun of you, I just don't get you at all, it's weird!

Rachel: I'ts NOT. It's the fact that you treat her better than me 90% of the time!

Rachel: You just- Do not DARE talk to me about LYING when it is apparently all you've been doing. I swear the only time you're honest with me is when you're drunk or crying or angry! I always have to push you and push you until we're screaming at each other to make you listen or even THINK about how I feel!

Rachel: It shouldn't matter WHY it's something important to me. IT IS and if you cared about me AT ALL you would accept that and not just shame me for it. But it's like that's all you know how to do with me. You can love me and be kind when we're physically touching but the second I'm not face to face with you you forget everything and revert back to treating me like I'm just that silly little loser with a big voice. And it HURTS. You don't care if I'm upset, or crying, or in pain unless someone else is causing it. You can say you love me as much as you want, but the words hold so little meaning when you treat me like a totally different person half the time.

Santana: BUT YOU'RE A DIFFERENT PERSON! You don't NEED me never to make fun of you! You can take it! I have not been lying! Much, anyway, not where it actually matters! Do you know how much it fucking takes for me to tell you shit?! You have no idea how hard it is to say ANYTHING to ANYONE about ANYTHING and you always push and push and push and think you just HAVE to know!

Santana: Rachel…I don't…I do not. I do care, okay, I…I do not.

Santana: Do you really think I don't?

Rachel: I know, I know, I'm just-

Rachel: I'm really scared, okay? About everything. I'm scared of losing you, and not being enough, or scaring you off, or screwing up, and- It all just terrifies me… You think I'm this wonderful and strong person_ but I'm not_. I'm a 16 year old girl who's so incredibly in love that I don't even know how to handle it. And I'm always overthinking things, or over-analyzing, and wondering if I'm good enough, or if I should back off, or shut up, or any number of things.

Rachel: I just want you to accept me for everything I am… And I know I'm crazy, and weird, and that I love music and Broadway in an insane way… But… that's just me… I know you care… I have to believe that. I guess… I'm just scared… I'm trying to change to be better for you, like changing my clothes and not singing as much… but it's… Yeah…

Santana: you're not gonna lose me, Rachel. Hell, you're the one who's gonna snap out of it one day and boot me out…I mean, look at us. Why are YOU worrying?

Santana: You are wonderful and strong…you are. You're like the strongest person I know. You're good enough, okay…you're better than me and we both know it. Why the hell do you think I can say all that crap…because we both know you're better so I'm just…we both know that. You don't have to change…I don't want you to. Not really. Just…just ignore me.

Rachel: I just feel like I'm not being good enough… If that, maybe if I were better we wouldn't fight so much, or I wouldn't cry, or… I'm not better than you. I'm not… We're just… We both are sort of broken up for a lot of reasons. But I'm not better. You're incredible, Santana. And I ask myself every day how I'm possible am to date such a wonderful young woman. You're not perfect, but you're wonderful.

Rachel: I just don't want to feel like this anymore. And I don't want to always take everything you say so seriously, but sometimes it's hard to just laugh it off because it reminds me of before we dated, and I know you're not that person. I know there's more to you. And I guess… I just wonder that… if I were a better girlfriend… if I knew and understood you better… maybe you'd show me more, or it'd be easier to talk to me…

Santana: I don't know… Are you crying? Rachel…don't cry. Please?

Santana: Rachel…I fight with everyone. Everyone. If you haven't noticed…and I've told you like a billion times…I'm a bitch. I just do that. I just…I just do.

Santana: It's not you or your fault…look, just…don't take it personally. It's just how I am, okay? You're a good girlfriend. You're an awesome girlfriend. I talk to you way more than anyone else, just…it's really hard.

Rachel: I'm- Okay. I am a little. But it's not your fault, I promise. I'll be okay. I just need to pull myself together. I'll be better, I will. I love you, and I know you love me, and I'll be better. I don't want to push you too hard, but at the same time I know you need to be pushed a little, but I just want you to be happy. I'm sorry for being so weird lately. I just miss you with how busy we've both been and we've been arguing so much. And I just miss you.

Santana: Shit…please don't cry. You don't have to be better, you're already great. Don't cry, okay? Please? Do you want me to come over?

Rachel: Please…? I… I just really need a hug… I'm sorry…

Santana: Okay. Stop crying.

88

Okay, so Rachel completely takes everything Santana does and says too seriously. She should know and understand by now how Santana is. She can't get through a day without making more snarky statements than neutral ones, let alone sweet ones, and she can't control her mouth without a lot of effort on her part. And Rachel is just so easy to snark about. Not to mention, she can take it. Rachel makes fun of her too- she had made that comment about Santana crying while drunk, after all- and anyway, she was strong, one of the strongest women Santana knew. Stronger than Santana herself, even if Santana would kill rather than tell anyone she thought so.

Making fun of Rachel was second nature, and after all, she'd already eased off on her clothes and appearance and she let her walk with her and kiss her and hold her hand where people could even see it. But hearing that Rachel was upset enough over it to cry…that was what did Santana in.

Okay, she knew Rachel was way too emotional and could cry at the drop of a hat if Santana was the one throwing it, or so it seemed to her. But that didn't mean she liked to know it was happening and she was its cause. Santana didn't say as much, but she absolutely hated to watch people cry, if they were someone she loved. It made her feel helpless and somewhat panicky to fix it, and if she were the cause? That was just not acceptable.

She had never been able to take Brittany crying. She still couldn't. Every time she thought about how upset the girl was still, or how mad Brittany was at her and how she had never, ever experienced either before all of this, Santana felt so anxious she could barely remain within her own skin without feeling like something was trying to crawl out of her from the inside out. She was afraid of losing Brittany, losing Rachel too…and it would be her fault, of course.

So as she drove to Rachel's house, she was thinking not how ridiculous the girl was, but of how much she was hoping she wasn't still crying. Because if she was, well, Santana might crack, and it was hard enough to talk about feelings without having to actually experience them too.

Rachel sat on the couch in the living room, her fathers already fast asleep, as was normal for them on a work night. She had managed to compose herself for now, but wasn't sure how well she'd be able to keep herself together once Santana actually arrived.

She was so frustrated with herself for how easily Santana could get to her. But she knew why it was. It was because she was close to Santana, because she loved her and Santana's opinion actually mattered to her, unlike the vast majority of Lima's. She desperately wanted the girl's approval, and she hated how her mind would twist everything to make it seem like that was a goal even Rachel Berry couldn't reach.

The singer didn't _want _to be so frustrated or scared. It wasn't like her at all, most of the time.

But it was different with Santana. Because, unlike the Cheerio, Rachel couldn't keep her armor on around someone she loved. She could keep it inside for awhile, or find ways to vent without them knowing, but sooner or later it would all build up and come out in a rush; one, big, emotional rush.

Like tonight, apparently…

She just wanted to stop feeling so vulnerable and just be able to enjoy being with Santana… Why was that so hard for them…?

Santana didn't bother to knock or ring the doorbell, figuring she might wake up Rachel's fathers. Instead she just came inside the door, glad to see that Rachel had already unlocked it to allow her in. As she came into the living room, seeing Rachel's tense form sitting on the couch, she exhaled, glad to see that at least she wasn't crying, before taking a slow step forward, stopping short of sitting next to her or touching her.

"Hey."

Hearing the door open and close, Rachel managed to compose herself more as she heard Santana walk into the living. But, when the girl stopped inches away from her, not sitting down, she didn't hesitate to take her hands and pull Santana down onto the couch. Rachel maneuvered herself and Santana without a word until Santana was laying against the end of the sofa and Rachel was curled up between her legs, head resting on her shoulder and hands fisting the material of her girlfriend's shirt.

"Hi…" she finally replied back, voice small, but no longer feeling thick from her previous crying. "We're sorta messed up, aren't we?" she asked, tone light and somewhat teasing, but also with an undercurrent of seriousness.

Santana nodded faintly when Rachel spoke, swallowing as her own throat suddenly choked with suppressed tears. She swallowed again, turning her face away, and stroked a hand through Rachel's hair, taking several moments to reply.

"Yeah. Sorta."

She could hear the changed tone of Rachel's voice and knew it to be because of crying- because of her. How could she so easily cause people so much pain, without even trying at all? She made Rachel cry all the time, she had made Brittany cry, Brittany didn't even want to hug her or be around her anymore because she had hurt her so badly, and what if it got to that point with Rachel too? What would she do if she didn't have Rachel OR Brittany just because she had tried for a while to have both?

Thinking this line of thought renews the pressure behind her eyes, and she blinks several times, still trying to keep it at bay as she says more fiercely, "We have to stop this, this is lame."

Sighing, closing her eyes and letting herself relax into Santana's body, Rachel shrugged a little. "The cuddling or the fighting? Because the fighting is really exhausting, yeah…" Of course she knew what Santana meant, but she was still trying to lighten the mood a little. And, well, it was definitely easier to understand when Santana was joking or what she meant when she spoke when they were face to face.

Rachel hoped that, over time, she'd be able to understand Santana just as well over text. Maybe it would make their lives a little easier…

"You're a really great girlfriend, too, by the way…" she spoke softly, remembering what Santana had said earlier. "And I do mean that. We both screw up a lot, so if I'm a good girlfriend then so are you."

"The bitching and crying and neediness," Santana muttered, still keeping her face turned from her even as she wrapped her arm more securely around the other girl. "I mean I guess I should expect it from you, you're the diva here…but don't you dare start to convert me."

It isn't said meanly at all, nor meant to be. It's just her continued strained effort of distancing her feelings from herself, even as she leans her head down into Rachel's, exhaling slowly through her nose.

That's hard to continue when Rachel tell her she's a great girlfriend, though. She had only just gotten her tears controlled at that point, and almost immediately she could feel them standing in her eyes when the other girl spoke. She sniffed, shaking her head, and wrapped her fingers around Rachel's shirt material in an unconscious mirroring of how Rachel was doing so to her.

"I suck. I suck as a friend and I suck as a girlfriend. I don't…I don't even know how to be any good at being anything but sex. I suck and I make everyone mad at me and then they get over it but it's because you guys are too nice, because I don't suck."

Curling into Santana tighter, both for herself and the other girl, Rachel shook her head as best she could. "No, stop that. You're a good girlfriend. If you say otherwise you're making a liar, and Rachel Berry never lies," she responded firmly, inhaling deeply and letting out a shaky breath.

How Santana could make her feel so many things all at once, all the time, was beyond her. But Rachel did feel them, and she also felt the girl's steady heartbeat, and breathing, and hands grasping at her shirt. She felt Santana, more than anything else.

"We'll… We'll figure it out together, okay? We will. Because we're both really stubborn, and… And I'm not ready to lose you just because it's hard. I told you, I'm not going anywhere. I sang a whole song about. So… So don't give up either. Please…?" The last part was softer, a little more anxious than Rachel wanted it to be. She didn't want to think about the idea of either of them calling it quits. Especially Santana, when sometimes it felt that Rachel was going to drive Santana away with the drop of a hat.

More than anything, she was angry at herself for being so insecure. That's what was causing all the problems, she knew. It was _her _fault. Not Santana's.

"Never? Not ever? If that's true I could have a lot of fun with that," Santana mumbled, giving a shaky laugh. She slowly inhaled the scent of Rachel near her- the clean, pure fragrance of her shampoo, the warmer, slightly salty smell of her skin, and concentrated on this, on the feel of her heart beating against her arm, and tried to ground herself with these physical sensations.

She didn't believe Rachel, even if Rachel believed herself. But still she nodded, trying to accept her word for the moment. It wasn't that she was going to give up. She was just so afraid that Rachel would, that Brittany would, because how many other people had all throughout her life?

Rachel let the silence stretch for awhile, feeling more calm than she had some time ago, but a nagging question continued scratching at the back of her mind. She tried to ignore it, to just enjoy Santana being with her, but it wouldn't go away, and as stupid as she knew she'd feel upon asking, the words were tumbling out of her mouth before she could hold them back any longer.

"Santana… Do you…" she hesitated, but the question pushed its way out nonetheless. "Do you… really think I'm a freak for not… for not going all the way, so to speak, with you yet?"

Yeah. She definitely felt like an idiot, and wanted to curl up in her bed and just hide from Santana for… at least several days. And _still _she kept talking. "I… I know it might seem silly, given how far we've already gone, and… And I mean, I _do_ love you. It's not even that. It's just… I just want it to be special… Not just… not just because we haven't been together for awhile, or we're angry, or something…" She swallowed thickly, face hot, and she kept her head ducked down against Santana's shoulder so that the girl couldn't quite look at her fully.

This was not a question or problem that had ever really occurred to Santana in any sort of serious measure. But she can feel Rachel tense against her, her face moving to press into her shoulder, and its clear how much this bothers her. Frowning, using the fact that Rachel isn't looking at her to rub at her eyes quickly with the thumb not attached to Rachel's shirt, she turned her head to look at her, bemused.

"No…I mean…that really bugs you?"

She paused, trying to sort through what to say, how not to screw up her actual thoughts, even as she tried to figure out what her thoughts were.

"Just…I mean, I guess that's cool and all. And Quinn always talked like that even though that turned out just to be talk. I guess I just don't really know many people who really do that and mean it. Or, like, any. And I guess it never seemed really special to me until- until girls," she kept herself from saying Brittany's name just barely. "I mean, my first time I was like, a day over fourteen, so it doesn't seem like a huge deal to me, it's always just been sort of what you do. And like…you get what you want with it, and sometimes, like maybe half the time, it's fun? With guys anyway. It's pretty much always fun with girls."

She exhaled, still thinking through, quite oblivious to the fact that as much as she'd had sex, a ratio of having fun with it "sometimes, maybe half the time" was pretty pathetic.

"I don't know, maybe it's fun with girls all the time because the gay thing, or maybe because…like the feelings with it? Like the lame Hallmark ones, not the "do it harder" ones. So I just…I think it would be fun with you and if you love me I would think…I don't know. So…I mean, I guess maybe I sort of get it but I sort of don't. "

Rachel listened as Santana spoke, taking it all in, and then nodded. "I guess that makes sense…" And it did, as far as she could understand it. She couldn't expect Santana to know how her head worked just like Rachel didn't know how Santana's head worked.

Really, part of her was just… Nervous. Very nervous. And it was maybe stupid, because obviously Santana enjoyed what they already did together, and the next step shouldn't be such a big deal… it just… was.

Taking a shaky breath, Rachel nodded a little. "Okay…" It didn't quite answer her question, in so far as if Santana thought she was a freak or something for it, but it would have to be enough. "Just… You'll wait for me, right? Because, I really do want it to be with you. I couldn't imagine it being with anyone. I just… You'll know when I'm ready for it. You'll be the first to know, obviously. And hopefully it will be good, and not… you know, bad. Or mediocre."

There was also the part where Rachel felt like she was competing against Brittany.

Another stupid thought that she just couldn't quite shake yet.

Wait for her…sure, Santana could do it as long as she didn't cut her off totally, like, not letting her touch her or do stuff at all. Maybe it would make it that much more amazing, having to wait. She had heard patience could do that for your sex life, not that she would know.

"Of course," she gave Rachel a light squeeze around the waist, kissing her cheek and then her lips lightly, able to look at her now that she has herself back under control. "Yeah. And don't be insane, if you can make me cum just like touching me…I can't even imagine sex."

And she couldn't. It would be worth it…if she didn't get Rachel to break up with her first by being stupid. Rachel says it wouldn't happen, but Brittany had also said she would never be mad at her.

The thought is still on her mind as well as she cuddles against her, and s can't entirely shake her faintly furrowed brow.

Rachel smiled at the kisses, turning herself in Santana's arms so that she could face her, her legs on either side of Santana's hips, hands going to grasp the other girl's. She had a small smile on her face now, and a light blush from the girl's words. "Uncouth as it may be, that's very sweet to say. And I thank you for stroking my ego on the that front."

But the slightly shadowed look on her girlfriend's face didn't go unnoticed once she was facing her, and Rachel spoke up, cautiously. "…You don't have to say anything, but, well, you've listened to me and made me feel better, so… If I can do the same, you know you can talk to me." She reached up one of her hands from Santana's, tracing the back of her fingers along a tan cheek and near the edge of Santana's lips.

"Just tell me how to get you smiling again, talking or no talking for now. I miss your adorable dimples, and that little glint you get in your eyes when you're either thinking of something really devious or perverted."

Santana's lips curved at the corners, just slightly, as Rachel stroked her fingers over her face, and she leaned into the touch, looking back at her. Rachel's eyes were too observant for her comfort, but somehow she couldn't, tempted as she was, bring herself to turn away.

She took in a slow breath, released it, then shook her head, denying the request to talk.

"I can't," she said, gently, praying Rachel wouldn't take it the wrong way or get upset with her for it. "It's not…you won't…"

But that sounded like she was blaming Rachel, already, somehow, so she tried to readjust her phrasing, shaking her head again, and then, after another slow breath in and out, she turned away from her, presenting her back.

"Rachel? Will you rub my back? And…sort of play with my hair?"

Even as she says it her ears redden,and she keeps her face down. It was a request she'd never had to ask for with Brittany, because the girl always just seemed to know she enjoyed it and when to start without her saying anything. Saying the words aloud sounded ridiculous to her.

But her back did hurt; every time she got upset her muscles drew up tightly, and between Cheerio practice and being confined in a sports bra that dug into her skin, she often did have back pain. And it was always really nice when people played with her hair.

"Of course," was the soft reply, and she shifted around so that she could do comfortably. Not having ever really done this before, she wasn't sure what she should do, but it seemed easy enough.

She set her hands on Santana's shoulders, gently moving her hair away from her back for now, and began rubbing the tight, surprisingly firm muscles of Santana's back and shoulders. She probably shouldn't be surprised at the amount of tone her girlfriend had, given Sue's hellish workouts and practices, but still, feeling Santana's muscles, even over her shirt, made her lick her lips.

It would be even better if she could manage to get rid of those knots…

She dug her fingers into the muscles over the shoulder blades, rolling the knots over and trying to work them, tongue peaking out of her lips in concentration. It was harder with Santana's shirt on, but she wasn't sure it would be appropriate for her to take the shirt off. Her dads were asleep, yes, but they could still wake up… It's be easier to explain that Santana needed a place to stay if she had a shirt on…

"Is… is that helping?" she asked, lightening her touch just a little as the knot finally unraveled under her touch.

Santana's back automatically tensed up further when Rachel first began to touch her, but as the girl's fingers worked at her muscles, gradually loosening them one by one, she began to relax, letting herself slump beneath her hands. Closing her eyes and tilting her head back, she sighed aloud.

"You're good at this," she whispered, feeling her pulse begin to calm, her skin growing warm and lax. "Really good…"

Rachel smiled, continuing to work her way across and down Santana's back, even when her hands began to get a little sore, not being used to this kind of work. It wasn't until several long minutes later, when she began yawning, that she finally stopped, hands going to play with Santana's hair, and she yawned again.

"We should go to bed… It's really late, and we have school," spoke Rachel, voice little more than a whisper. She wrapped her arms around Santana's waist and pressed herself to the girl's back, resting her cheek on her back, eyes closing and already feeling like she was going to drift off. "'N you have Cheerios, and I have… stuff." She was sure she had plans in the morning. She just couldn't imagine what those were right now. Not when she could feel Santana's heartbeat through her back, and he warmth radiating off of her.

"You're cozy…" she murmured, yawning again.

Santana's body was nearly fully relaxed and loose-limbed now, her eyes still closed, throat bared as she kept her head back, tilting it even more so when Rachel began to run her fingers through her hair. She was as sleepy as Rachel, lulled into drowsiness by the girl's hands, and when Rachel wrapped herself around her, she accepted the embrace without comment, one hand covering Rachel's around her middle.

"Mm," she mumbled in reply to Rachel's statement, not really hearing her. Slumping forward, she let the girl lean into her, nearly asleep. Any concerns or worries she had had were fully gone from her mind, at least for the moment, as she breathed deeply, feeling the weight of Rachel against her back almost like a human blanket.


	31. Chapter 31

_Author notes: Again, I appreciate all reviews, but if you log in under your name instead of guest I can reply to you personally, which I prefer :)_

_Regarding the comments about Santana and her treatment towards Rachel/Brittany. Yes, Santana's behavior is hardly stellar here. Yes, her relationship with Rachel right now is very rocky and not very beneficial to Rachel at times. But this story is extremely long and it is a long process of how they grow and change. Remember this is a girl who was at the beginning blackmailing and bullying Rachel. She has a lot to learn about really loving someone and consistently being good to them, mainly because she not only has not been raised by a family who is consistently good to her, but because she does not love herself. This is a girl who is barely learning to accept her sexuality and who has an eating disorder. She is too focused on herself and her hatred for herself to really, truly be able to love Rachel or be a good friend to Brittany. Her insecurity is blinding her to her own bad behavior sometimes, but Rachel can certainly give back her own and will continue to "educate" her. You will see more examples of this, but as Santana has to tackle her own problems, namely her family issues and her eating disorder, her behavior will change. It's very difficult to be a good girlfriend when you have had no practice or examples of how to be, and when you're rooted deeply in your issues._

_The comment about Santana "letting" Rachel hold her hand publicly is very much a show of where Santana is right now. This is a girl who used to be terrified to show people she's gay. "Letting" Rachel hold her hand in public is a huge step for her. She's trying to change herself in many different ways right now so of course she's going to bristle if Rachel challenges her, because in her mind, she's already put herself out there so much._

_And keep in mind, guys. This is SANTANA. She will always tease and be snarky, sometimes entirely out of good humor with no malicious intent at all. _

Texts

**Santana**: you are really kinda mad at Rachel still, aren't you? I can tell…the way you look at her in Glee.

**Brittany:** A little.

**Santana:** can I help you not be so mad at her?

**Brittany:** How would you even do that?

**Santana:** I don't know. But I want to.

**Brittany:** It'll probably take magic, so you better find a person who has those powers.

**Santana:** ...you're like never mad, Britt.

**Brittany:** It's because I don't like being mad, but I can't really help it right now.

**Santana:** are you mad at me too? because it's not Rachel's fault. It's mine.

**Brittany:** I am a little, yeah, but I think I have the right to be mad at both of you. It obviously isn't only your fault, she could've said no to whatever you were offering.

**Santana:** I don't think you've ever been mad at me before.

**Santana: ** I don't even know what to say...I'm sorry

**Santana:** It started before we were together...I didn't think you'd love me. I was scared and then things just...

**Santana:** What can I do to make you not mad at me?

**Brittany:** Pause! You got together with me when you had feelings for her? I thought you got feelings for her after we got together.

**Brittany:** I don't know, Santana.

**Santana:** we were already like doing sex and stuff but I thought you didn't really want me and there was Artie...so I was messing around with Rachel and then...I didn't think I loved her

**Santana:** I loved you. So I went to you and I was so happy you wanted me and...I don't know, Britt.

**Santana:** Please don't be mad. Please?

**Brittany:** You should've just been with Rachel. My brain wouldn't be so crazy right now if you did. I'm sorry.

**Santana:** No, I'm sorry. Do you...I don't even you want me to hug you, or..I'm sorry.

**Brittany:** My hugs are someone elses right now. Maybe tomorrow or something.

**Santana:** ... you never wouldn't hug me before. Brittany, you're making me really sad.

**Santana:** do you hate me?

**Brittany:** I'm not trying to make you sad, Santana. I figure you have Rachel to hug and I've got... the whole school.

**Brittany:** I could never hate you. I'm your best friend, remember? I'm upset. I'm sure if I would've done the same thing to you, you would be upset too. Actually you'd probably beat up "my Rachel".

**Santana:** But Rachel isn't my best friend. You are. But you're not me.

**Brittany:** I 's why I haven't beat up Rachel- I thought about it once, but I could never hit someone. Plus I'm bigger than she is and it wouldn't be a fair fight.

**Santana:** I didn't think you were even capable of thinking of I'm changing you.I thought that wasn't possible!

**Brittany:** Of course I'm capable of it, I just don't do it because I don't like the way it makes me feel. You're not changing me, this is a superbadterribleawful situation that has me really upset. And I thought about like, forever ago when you first told me. Then I washed my brain with candy.

**Santana:** do you want me to leave you alone?

**Brittany:** No. Unless you don't want to be around me anymore because I make you sad.

**Santana:** you make me sad but I still want to be around you..

**Brittany:** You can't break a pinky promise and that's the only reason, right?

**Santana:** what? no! I want to be around you because I want to, not just because I promised. I need you, Brittany.

**Brittany:** It's because I'm super awesome, just like I need you around because you're super awesome.

**Santana:** so...please don't be mad at me or Rachel then

**Brittany:** I can try.

Texts (one hour later)

**Santana: (**drunk) dont stop hugging me!

**Brittany:** Santana, I'll never stop hugging you.

**Santana:** you said you weren't gonna hug me anymore

**Santana:** I made you be mean and wanna hit people

**Santana:** I RUINED YOU

**Santana:** I RUINED YOUR INNOCENCE

**Santana:** YOUR NOT GONNA BE MY BRITTANY ANYMORE

**Brittany:** I can't hug you tonight because I have plans. I promise we can hug whenever you want, just not tonight. It was a weak moment, doesn't everyone have a breakdown every once in a while?

**Brittany:** I am your Brittany, that's never going to change..unless I change my name.

**Santana:** it is too you wont hug me and you acted mean its all different and I ruined you!

**Brittany:** I will hug you, promise! You didn't do anything! Other than be with Rachel, you know, whatever. I'm over it, okay? Things can be the same again. I'll not be mad at you or Rachel ever.

**Santana:** (doesn't look at the phone because she's worked herself into near hysteria)

**Brittany:** I'll come hang out with you and hug you if it makes you feel better.

**Santana:** I donthaet u I love u I just wana not maekepeolepe mad

**Santana:** my head hurts

**Brittany:** No one's mad.

**Brittany:** No more drinking, Santana.

**Santana:**howd u no that?ur psycho

**Santana:** psychic I DIDNT MEAN THAT DONT BE MAD

**Santana:** god my head hurtsss

**Brittany:** Nah, I'm just really smart and know this stuff. You want me to come take care of you?

**S:** no yuusholdnt have to im bad to u

**Brittany:** I'm not very good to you either, so... I'll come give you my hugs and make your head feel better.

**S:** ok r u cuming now

**Brittany:** Yeah.

**Santana:**im gross

**Brittany:** Shush, you're not gross.

**Santana:** yeah I am im snotty and I threw up

**Brittany:** You should probably clean yourself up, but it doesn't make you gross silly goose!

**Santana:** yes it doesss

**Brittany:** No it doesn't. Everyone gets a little snotty and throws up, it doesn't make them gross. Well, some of them are a little gross, but not you

**Santana:**youre being nice to me again I like u nice. ill be nice tooill never be mean again

Brittany: okay sweetie. I'm coming.

Five minutes later

Santana: I lveu u rachleelllllll

**Rachel:** Sweetie... are you drunk...?

**Santana:** nooo...

**Santana:** maybe

**Rachel:** May I ask why...?

**Santana:** cu**z**

**Santana:** I cant tell you

**Rachel:** Oh... Alright... Um... Do you want me to come over, or...?

**Santana:** I guess if u want but

**Santana:** mami an abeula are fihting and britntay is comin over now

**Rachel:** [no response for a good ten minutes]

**Rachel:** Alright. Well. I hope Brittany makes you feel better. Just remember to stop drinking, and drink lots of water, and get some sleep, okay?

**Santana:** ok I love u dont ever stop hugging me

**Santana:** Brittany s gona be nice to yuo now she said

**Rachel:** I love you, too, and I'll never stop if you never stop. I promise.

**Rachel:** Brittany doesn't have to be nice to me if she doesn't want to, Santana... But thank you.

**Santana:** good ok she she said she will

**Rachel:** I believe you, it's okay. Just... Be safe for me. It'd be really hard to hug you if something bad happens.

**Santana:** im safe Im just gross she sez im not tho

When Santana awoke in the morning, she felt worse than dead. If she had been dead, she probably wouldn't have felt much pain, at least, but now, she was completely wrecked.

She wasn't sure how many much tequila she had helped herself to out of her father's stash, exactly, but clearly it had been enough that she couldn't much remember what she had done the night before. She did vaguely remember what had happened before the drinking binge- that much, she knew and dreaded. Her abuela had continued to behave, for the past several weeks, exactly as she had since Santana first came out to her, immediately leaving every room that Santana entered, either without looking at her at all or first giving her a black stare that made Santana's heart twist up in knots every time it met her head on, knowing the disgust, maybe even hatred, that was directed at her now, behind her abuela's eyes. Her papi had been either oblivious to the majority of it, since he was never home, or else had chosen to ignore it, but her mami observed it more frequently, being around more often, and last night, her abuela had apparently pushed things too far for her to be able to continue to take.

It had started when Santana's mother called her for dinner. Of course, her abuela now refused to eat at the same table as her, so she was called at a separate time, and often made an excuse or arranged a way where she wouldn't have to be present for meals at all. Between the stress revolving around this and her already existing issues with eating, period, this was never helpful in making her want to eat anything at all, and Alma Lopez had pushed past her limit this time.

As Santana had gone to the cabinets, intending to get herself and her mother glasses, plates, and silverware to set the table for dinner with, she had quickly discovered, to her bemusement, that there were slips of paper beneath each cup and under every plate that she lifted. Taking them out and holding them up to look at them, it had soon become obvious what they were, and who had placed them there. In neat, precise handwriting, Alma Lopez had written out each Bible verse she could find that related in any way to declaring homosexuality or sexual immorality as a sin, abomination, or perversion.

Santana had drawn in a sharp breath upon realizing this, banging down one of the plates too hard, and as her mother turned, seeing her expression, she had gone to her, taking one of the papers from her hand as she frowned in concern.

"Mija, what is this?"

It hadn't taken her long to put two and two together, even though Santana had tried to pull the paper away and asked her just to ignore it. But Maribel Lopez had had enough, and although it might take her mother some time to reach the point of genuine fury, she had gone there that particular night.

Storming into Alma's bedroom, handful of papers in her hand, she had thrown the door open, tossing the papers at her like confetti before beginning to yell at her in rapidfire Spanish. Something about tolerance and hypocrisy, suffering little children and treating her daughter like a leper in her own home, and on Alma's end, Santana had heard something about Sodomites and the whore of Babylon and unnatural sorceress women, whatever that meant. She hadn't stuck around to listen to much more. She had locked herself up in her bedroom, turned her music on Amy Winehouse as loud as it would go, and took out her phone, intending to text Rachel.

But she had had an unread text from Brittany first, and so she had started a conversation with her, which had quickly done absolutely nothing to improve her state of mind. Upon finding out that Brittany was not only still upset, but also was threatening not to hug her anymore and to give her hugs to other people instead, talking about how she couldn't hang out with her that night because she had a date and anyway, she was mad at her and Rachel, talking about how she had thought of beating Rachel up and how Santana should never have dated her in the first place…it was a side of Brittany Santana had never really observed before and had barely thought possible. She had always thought of Brittany as sweet and pure and special like Santana herself could never be, incapable of really being angry or holding a grudge, let alone thinking of violence. So for Brittany to hold back hugs and actually be angry, and know that SHE had caused it, had sent her emotions spiking drastically, leaving her with one fast and simple solution in her mind.

She couldn't talk to Brittany. Clearly, she couldn't talk to Rachel about being upset over Brittany, not when she knew Rachel already was so insecure over her. Quinn didn't answer her phone, and that left one choice. Alcohol, vomiting, or both together.

And so she had gotten right on that, slipping past where her mother and grandmother were still yelling and heading straight for the liquor cabinet. Locking herself into the guest bathroom, she had proceeded to work through considerably more tequila than she needed and didn't take long to become intoxicated enough to start crying hysterically, all while texting Quinn, Brittany, Rachel, and likely any number of other people whose numbers happened to be at her fingertips. She didn't remember vomiting twice or getting Brittany to come over, or that by the time Brittany came over and helped her that her abuela had already shut herself back into her room or that her mother had gone to their exercise room and started to run on the treadmill, so neither noticed at all what was going on. She didn't remember Brittany putting her to bed, but when she woke in the morning with her hair badly tangled, her tongue so dry and pasty it was nearly sticking to the roof of her mouth, and her body aching all over, her stomach sloshing sickeningly with every movement, it became obvious to her that she hadn't gotten there alone.

Brittany was still asleep in bed beside her, having clearly crashed for the night, and although Santana didn't want to get up herself and the thought of Cheerio practice literally made her turn pale, she had reluctantly shaken her awake and dragged herself out of bed, taking a long shower and brushing her teeth. She had still felt rather terrible as she plodded down to the kitchen, where her mother had eyed her with suspicion as she slunktowards the door.

"I see Brittany's car outside," she had informed her. "Santana, I support you, you know that, but considering what happened with your abuela last night…did you really have to ask her over? You are only making things worse for yourself, and honestly, Santana, now that we know your circumstances, you know it is not considerate or appropriate of you not to ask or inform me or your papi before having a girl sleep over, even Brittany. Maybe especially Brittany…are the two of you…"

"No," Santana had muttered, without bothering to explain. "No, we're not…it's not like that, Mami…"

"All the same, Santana, a little consideration…you know that you-" her mother had started, and as Santana tuned her out, dragging through the rest of her routine needed to prepare for the day, she had tried actively not to think about what, exactly, she had been doing the night before. Grabbing her cell phone and realizing that her battery was dead, she left it in the charger in her car as she arrived at the school without checking any messages.

Sue's practice had seemed even more brutal to her than usual, or maybe it genuinely was because the woman understood and got great pleasure out of the fact that she was clearly hungover. Santana could barely move and certainly couldn't think very straight by the time she was done with them. There was no time to try to find Rachel before homeroom, and she was too late for first period to really be able to talk to her, but when lunch hour came, she found Rachel at her locker and came up behind her, wrapping her arms around her and burying her face between Rachel's shoulder blades.

"Everyone's trying to kill me or make me kill," she mumbled into the girl's hair, squeezing her tightly. "Why are the bells so damn LOUD?"

88

Rachel hadn't slept last night. She had been worried about Santana, more than anything, but her own insecurities had also proven to be particularly terrible to her psyche.

On one hand, she felt that Santana would never cheat on her. On the other hand, well… Technically Santana had cheated a few times on Brittany WITH her, so… what was stopping her from doing it again? Especially when drunk and miserable? And that, of course, begged the questions; what wasn't Santana telling her, and why had she needed Brittany?

The pieces added up in a way Rachel didn't want to believe.

Still, Rachel was desperately trying to get over herself, and have some confidence in her relationship. And, more than that, she was just too tired to keep fighting. She had never had a sleeping problem before, but these days, unless Santana was with her, she seemed to get 4 to 6 hours at best. Waking up at 6am to start her morning routine had become a chore, and today she had actually slept in for an hour.

It may not have seemed like much, but for Rachel, it was everything.

Just getting to school had been difficult, and she had opted to actually take the bus, for the sake of sitting up front where no one would bother her and doze off for the 20 minute ride.

Once there, she had been drowsy all day, and had been relieved for lunch time; mostly because she planned on going to the auditorium and sleeping for 45 minutes…

Then, she felt a warm, slightly taller body press itself up against her, deceptively thin arms wrap around her waist, and hot breath on the nape of her neck. She tensed, mostly due to not really being all there and partially asleep, but relaxed immediately back against Santana once she recognized the voice and perfume.

Swallowing a yawn, Rachel replied, "I'm surprised you didn't wear your glasses, to be honest," tone surprisingly light given how tired and worried she was. "But I'm sorry you're having a rough day today, nonetheless." The snappy, caustic words of 'Maybe Brittany can help again' were right on her tongue, begging to be let loose, but she held them back, physically biting down on said tongue to keep from saying anything of the sort.

She was not going to be jealous, or insecure, or start yet another fight with Santana just because her brain and subconscious was being stupid.

If she kept being… well, _herself_, she'd lose Santana for sure.

The thought actually made her throat tighten, and she wondered when she had become so willing to sacrifice who she was for the sake of another person, and be so terrified of even mentioning Broadway, much less wanting a solo in Glee club.

Probably around the same time she had started to lose sleep…

The words were still waiting to get out, so Rachel didn't say anything else. She just let out a shaky sigh, wiling herself to be better; a better person for Santana.

Santana said she didn't have to change, but it had become clear to Rachel that she did. Dramatic, theatre-loving, freak Rachel wasn't what Santana wanted. Rachel wasn't totally sure _what _she wanted, but she figured that as long as she wasn't someone that reminded Santana too much of the girl she used to hate, it would be okay.

Completely oblivious to Rachel's brief tension or anything she might be feeling in the moment, and in fact fairly incapable of thinking of anyone but herself in the moment, Santana snuggled closer against Rachel's back, nose buried in her hair as her arms wrapped more tightly around her. She was quiet for a few moments, just breathing in her scent before muttering, "I want to sleep. Can we go find somewhere to sleep for lunch?"

She had yet to charge her phone or check the messages, and it still had not struck her that she had talked to Rachel last night.

had not struck her that she had talked to Rachel last night.

Closing her locker, Rachel sighed, closing her eyes and taking a slow inhale and exhale. "I was actually planning on it, to be honest. We can share my lunch, then sleep. It's just a banana and a sandwich."

Turning around in Santana's hold, Rachel wrapped her arms around her neck, holding onto her tightly and burying her head in the crook of the girl's neck. She needed to just calm herself down. Whatever happened last night just… happened. There was nothing she could say without starting another fight, and apparently Santana was also tired. Though Rachel knew that was due to a hangover as opposed to not being able to sleep.

So, taking just another moment to be held and hold Santana, when the starting bell signalling the beginning of lunch rang, Rachel pulled away, taking Santana's hand and leading her to the green room behind the auditorium.

At least Santana still wanted to fall asleep with her sober. That was something, she supposed.

"You're tired too?" Santana mumbled into Rachel's hair, eyes still closed. "Mkay. Sleep with me then."

For once she didn't realize this could be a sexual metaphor. As Rachel turned into her, Santana felt her heart beating, faster than usual, against her chest, but again thought nothing much of it. She just held onto her, eyes closed, relaxed, until the bell rang and Rachel pulled away. It wasn't until then she remembered Rachel's comment about sharing lunch. Starting to protest, she reluctantly thought better of it. She had thrown up last night, after not eating dinner, and skipped breakfast today. Between Cheerios and her hangover, if she skipped again, she might pass out.

"What kind of sandwich?" she muttered as she curled herself into one of the auditorium chairs.

Rolling her eyes, she pulled Santana off the chair, practically dragging her backstage and to the small loveseat that was set up currently. It was for some sort of small performance going on over the weekend, but it was a decent loveseat and the cushions were nice. It would do.

With a yawn, she sat down, pulling Santana down next to her, and immediately curling up into the girl's side, opening up her brown bag and taking out her banana. "It's hummus with tomatoes, cucumbers, thin slice onions, and pomegranate molasses. I promise it's good. And very healthy, as well." She took the sandwich and handed it to Santana, unpealing the banana and taking a small bite.

She was quiet then, partially from being tired, partially from not know what to say. All her words either involved asking about what happened last night, or taking up other topics that she knew Santana didn't care about- such as Broadway, or the performance of Rent going on at the local theatre a town or so over, etc.

They were things she wanted to talk about, but she didn't want to irritate the girl. Especially when neither of them had the energy for it, clearly.

The sheer number of items in the sandwich, let alone the strange combination, was enough to put Santana off, but as Rachel had noted, she didn't have the energy to do much more than make a face before taking it from her, not bothering to comment. Struggling to tear the sandwich down the middle, and having some difficulty given the contents, she ended up spilling some of them out onto the wrapper. Putting them all back onto Rachel's half and taking the smaller half for herself, she ate very slowly, having to make herself concentrate to do so. She left the crust and much of the molasses but ate most of the bread and vegetables, then, curling up with her knees against her chest, lay her head in Rachel's lap.

"Thanks," she muttered, closing her eyes. "Good pillow."

Finishing up her banana, opting not to bother with the other half of the sandwich, Rachel put everything away in her bag, set it on the floor, and proceeded to struggle for a minute or two as she moved Santana around so that she could also lay down comfortably.

In the end, they were both on their side, and Rachel turned her back to Santana and made the girl wrap her arms around her waist, somewhat mimicking how they had been standing in the hall earlier.

Still, not knowing what to say, Rachel just sighed again, closing her eyes and putting her arms over Santana's own, willing her exhaustion to take over so that she couldn't think about being with Santana felt exactly perfect, and yet everything seemed to be going wrong.

The warning bell for the end of lunch jarred Santana awake just when she had been about to go to a deeper and more restful sleep. Scowling fitfully even before opening her eyes, she sat up slowly, realizing that there was some difficulty in this as she was both tangled up with and squashed behind Rachel. As she pulled away from her, sitting up and stretching her arms, she leaned her forehead into her for a few more minutes, hugging her, before heading off to class.

She continued to zombie through most of her day and through the final Cheerios practice as well, desperate by the end to get hold of Rachel and hang out with her in a chill fashion again for a longer period, even if they did just end up sitting around with her head in her lap again. Maybe she could talk her into rubbing her back again, that had been really nice.

But she didn't find Rachel in the hall or the auditorium, which was strange, nor the choir room, at least not when she checked. When she turned on her phone to call her, that was when Santana saw the messages from the night before. It took her a little while for the meaning behind them to hit her, both on her end and on Rachel's, at least in probability.

Another screw-up…SERIOUSLY?


	32. Chapter 32

Texts

**Santana:** you didn't tell me I texted you last night...

**Rachel:** [an hour passes]

**Rachel:** I didn't see the point... You already told me you weren't going to tell me what was going on. I don't want to k to keep fighting all the time...

**Santana:** I was drunk, I wasn't trying to make you mad

**Santana:** are you? mad?

**Rachel:** I'm not mad, Santana. I promise. I'm just... tired. That's all.

**Santana:** nothing happened

**Santana:** I swear

**Rachel:** I believe you. It just...

**Rachel:** Just nevermind, okay? It's fine. I trust you.

**Santana:** you're sad or tripping out or something aren't you?

**Rachel:** I told you, I'm just tired.

**Santana:** no you're not...you're mad or upset or something and you just won't say

**Santana:** Rachel I'm really tired and I feel like shit so if you're tripping out just tell me

**Santana:** im sorry, but...like I cant fix things if you just pretend youre not mad and then spring it on me later

**Rachel:** I don't want to upset you, especially when you've clearly already had a really rough last night and day... It's not a big deal. I know nothing happened.

**Rachel:** I'm supposed to help you... Or at least not make things worse for you.

**Santana:** Im not upset...Im ok

**Santana:** youre not making anything worse...just tell me

**Rachel:** I'm... I don't know, honestly...

**Rachel:** I really am tired. Exhausted, actually. I didn't sleep well at all last night, nor at lunch. And... I just feel...

**Rachel:** For once I'm at a lost for words... I don't know what to say without sounding stupid or needy...

**S:** maybe we can sleep together then?

**S:** well...don't worry about it, just say it...you're starting to freak me out here going around in circles

**Rachel:** I... I feel sad. And suffocated. And sort of like I just want to crawl out of my own skin...

**Rachel:** I don't know how to talk to you without risking annoying you, or mentioning something I shouldn't.

**Rachel:** I...

**Rachel:** I just... I don't know how to be anything but the girl you used to hate..

.**Rachel:** And I know you don't hate me anymore. You love me. And that's really amazing. But- I mean. I know we don't really share any interests but music, and you don't care about a lot of the music or artist I really like, and I don't want to bore you, or get on your nerves.

**Rachel:** I don't... want to give you a reason to remember why you hated me in the first place...

**Rachel:** Please don't be mad..

.**Santana:** I make you feel...suffocated?

**Santana:** and sad, and...I make your skin crawl?

**Santana:** that's...isn't that bad? like...spiders make my skin crawl

**Santana:** I make you feel like a spider?

**Santana:** why...do I...am around you too much, or.. I need to much, or

**Santana:** I do love you

**Santana:** you don't get on my nerves

**Santana:** usually

**Santana:** I mean, everyone gets annoyed by everyone sometimes, you know?

**Santana:** I didn't...I never really hated you. Not really.

**Santana:** I just...you weren't like me, and you seemed...you should be like below me, because of everything, and the way you were and how everyone was to you, and you still...I don't know

**Santana:** you were supposed to be less than me because you were a geek and Glee and your clothes and everything so you should have...I don't know, you should have KNOWN that. in my head. not in reality.

**Santana:** like you should have...this sounds stupid

**Santana:** you should have felt worse about yourself than I did. but you didn't.

**Santana:** you still knew you were talented and going somewhere and better than everyone else and you still dressed how you wanted and knew you looked good no matter what I did or said to you or anyone else...

**Santana:** and I was doing all the right things and saying all the right things and hanging with the right people in cheerleading with all the guys and everything and I still felt worse than you did.

**Santana:** I never hated you. I hated that you didn't hate you when I hated me.

**Santana:** but...I make your skin crawl and...suffocate you?

**Rachel:** I... You wanted me to hate myself...?

**Rachel:** I- No just I just don't... I don't want to feel like... I mean it feels like if I... if I do things I enjoy you'll just

**Rachel:** You'll tease me for it. And not in a funny way. Just in a... in 'that's stupid Rachel' way

**Rachel:** And then you. Then you wanted Brittany not to come over instead of me. And you didn't notice that.

**Rachel:** I feel really overwhelmed right now.

**Rachel:** And more than a little confused.

**Rachel:** You don't- You don't make me feel like a spider. Just. JUst sometimes how you treat me does.

**Rachel:** And I really want to be there for you, and support you, and help you, and do all those things for you because I care about you, it's just that sometimes...

**Rachel:** Sometimes it feels like you're just... taking from me, and not giving things back. And that as long as you tell me you love me, you think that's okay...

**Rachel:** I don't know. Maybe I should just go to sleep now. I don't think I'm helping at all, and now I upset you, and you're going to be angry and sad and it's my fault... Again...

**Santana:** (long time to respond) yeah. I'm sorry. I did.

**Santana:** I don't think you're stupid

**Santana:** I don't want to be mean to you

**Santana:** I just...it's hard to stop sometimes i'm trying not to be really mean

**Santana:** I treat you like a spider... stop giving me things then

**Santana:** I don't want to be like that so...stop giving me things

**Santana:** the Brittany thing...I cant tell you everything, Rachel

**Santana:** I just cant bc I don't want you to get upset or mad or

**Santana:** but now you are anyway

**Santana:** Idk what to do

**Santana:** im trying I just...

**Santana:** im not good enough for you.

**Santana:** that's why it's like this.

(Facebook private messages)

Rachel: Don't you _dare _tell me that, Santana Veronica Lopez. Because all you're saying is that you don't want to try. That's it. You may not even realize it, but using "I'm not good enough for you" is just an excuse to make you feel better about not wanting to deal with something hard. I get it, loving me is a hard. Treating me like your girlfriend, or that you love me, is harder than treating me like a loser. You've had no reason to be anything but cruel to me for years, and now suddenly you have to actually treat me with a certain of respect and not mock me every second of the day. Old habits or whatever.

Fine. It's hard.

Newflash, Santana, lots of things are hard. Living in this stupid town is hard. Seeing you with Brittany is hard. Knowing that you've loved her longer than me is hard. But guess what? I'm still working on it.

I'm _trying_. And not just trying when it's easy to try. I am _always _trying.

If being with me so difficult… If I'm not worth all the effort, then you should have stayed with Brittany. Because yes. Loving Brittany, for you, is easy. It comes naturally. Fine. So be it. But that's a decision you have to make on your own. You need to evaluate a few things, Santana. You need to decide if I'm worth it, or if it's just too hard for you to handle.

And if it is, then you better damn well admit to that because I _will not _let you play at being the _victim _here. Don't you dare make excuses for yourself. Either I'm worth the effort and the work or I'm _not_. Either you're willing to change some of your attitude, instead of just throwing out "this is who I am" at me, or you can walk away now.

Because THIS is who I am. I sing, and I love Broadway with my very SOUL. I want to be a star. I want to dress in a way that makes me both comfortable AND look good, and I want to do a lot of things and I am done being so, so afraid of being myself around you and being terrified that if I don't hide myself, you'll leave. If you can't love me for everything that I am, all the singing and Barbra adoration included, then you don't deserve me. And that is on YOU. That is something YOU need to figure out.

So figure it out Santana. Because I'm sick of being afraid of making you angry, or upsetting you. I'm not going to let you push me around, even if you don't think that that's what you're doing.

I love you. And I love you for everything you are- even the sarcasm, bad temper, or 'bitchy' attitude. I love every piece of you. And the parts that still bother me, I'm learning to love and accept anyway. This isn't about me not doing something, and telling me to stop giving you things is just you putting all the responsibility on me AGAIN.

So no. I'm not going to stop giving. You are going to start giving back. And if you can't do that, walk away now.

Santana: Rachel…. I'm trying. I am trying. Don't tell me to leave. I don't want to leave. I do love you. Rachel…I don't even know what you want me to give. Or do. Or be

Rachel: I told you. This is something YOU have to figure out. So make a list or something. The things you don't like about me and us, and the things you do. Compare and contrast. Or write a journal. I don't know, Santana. But I'm not letting you make excuses about this anymore. You don't get to say "This is who I am" when you're being completely rude to me, or give up when things get hard, or just make yourself out to be the victim.

You're NOT a victim. You're like everyone else who's had a difficult life. And you know what? You're stronger for it. If you keep comparing yourself to me or telling yourself you're weak or whatever, then that's exactly what you'll be. Start owning up to the parts of you that you don't like and doing something about it. ACTUALLY doing something about it.

Not eating isn't a solution. It's just another form of running. Hiding behind hurtful words is just keeping your shields up.

And honestly, Santana? If there's anyone you should know understands what you're going through, specific details aside, it's me. But you don't trust me. And you're just as scared as I have been.

So, like I said. Decide if this relationship is worth being brave over. Then start acting like it. Because I'm done playing nice and letting you get away with these things. It's not healthy for either of us.

Santana: I do trust you. I'll be nice, okay? I will. I didn't know you were so mad…I'll be nice. I'm not breaking up with you…

Rachel: You don't trust me, Santana. Don't lie about that. You don't trust me to listen, or to not badger you. You don't trust me to not yell at you when you bring Brittany up, or to talk to me about when you're stressed out. If you trusted me on any level, you'd communicate with me. And yes, it's something that has to grow. It's something you have to learn to do, and come to terms with. But as of now, you don't. And if you keep thinking you trust me, you'll never think you have anything to learn on the matter.

This isn't about you just 'being nice'. Go back and read what I've written and actually take it in. This is about you looking at how you act, looking at our relationship, and how you feel about me, and deciding if making changes when it comes to me is important. Whether that's 'being nice', or talking, or just not being scared of what I'll say.

It's about realizing that this relationship is not going to be all rainbows and kittens or whatever sometimes, and that is going to be very hard at times, and that it'll be worth it or it won't to keep fighting for it and working together.

Santana: I guess…I don't trust anyone. I want to be with you. I do. So you want me to…trust you, and not make fun of you, and…what else do you want? For me to talk to you?

Rachel: Bantering with me, for the record, is not the same as needlessly teasing me crudely. You'll figure it out, Santana. You're incredibly smart, once you know what you want. So if you want me like you say you do, you'll figure out what that means, and I'll help you. For now though… Just… Can you just come over tonight? I want to sleep, and I'd prefer to fall asleep with you. We can go to school in the morning together then, too.

Santana: I want you to tell me what you want me to do so I can do it…is there other stuff or is that it? Okay. If you want me to.

Rachel: Sweetie, I want you to figure out how to show me you love me. That's something you learn on your own. I do. I want to cuddle with you and fall asleep listening to your heartbeat, and wake up to you complaining about my cold feet and kissing me anyway. I like when you do that.

Santana: Okay.

Rachel: Okay. I love you, and I'll see you soon. Drive safe, please.

Santana: Okay.

Rachel: And Santana? You're having a snack when you get here. I don't care if it's a single cracker or a piece of celery or a four course meal. You're eating, or drinking, something. Because I'm willing to bet money you haven't eaten anything since that half of a sandwich.

Santana: Okay.

Rachel: Good. Now stop moping and get here. Remembering to bring a toothbrush and your uniform. And whatever else you need for school, etc.

Santana: Okay.

Rachel: We're both wearing footie pajamas tonight, as well.

Santana: …..I don't have any. Why

Rachel: Oh, so you DO know more words than "Okay". And here I was hoping to take advantage of your apparently willingness to do anything I told you…

88

Rachel had asked that Santana come over, after their rather long-winded and emotional text conversation, but Santana could not have possibly pulled everything she was thinking and feeling in its aftermath together quickly enough to head over right away. Even after she had told Rachel she was coming over, she had to give herself time to process everything the other girl had poured out on her, because even after reading through the barrage of texts and private messages four or five times, she was still having a hard time understanding all of it and taking in every piece of what Rachel had thrown at her.

As of now, the main conclusion she was coming to, in her attempt to piece it all together, was that she was a completely awful girlfriend, that Rachel was pissed off at her and letting her know exactly how awful she was at making her happy, and that in general, she was a selfish, cowardly person who all around sucked.

Maybe Rachel had said that this wasn't true and had added in a few sentences about her being amazing and smart and strong and saying she loved her and all the rest. But those had been sprinkled in between the parts about how Santana made her feel like a spider and made her skin crawl and how she never gave Rachel anything and treated her badly and whatever else Rachel had thrown in there that Santana could barely remember now, so those words were sort of muted to her in between all the others jumping out.

It was insane how as little as a few months ago, words like that from Rachel Berry would have been a sign of victory to Santana, assurance that she was making Rachel hate her and feel every bit as bad about herself as Santana secretly felt about herself. It would have been a crowning accomplishment. But now, it hurt her as if Rachel had actually beaten her down with her fists, maybe worse, because Rachel's hands were pretty damn tiny. If Rachel, who loved her and was her girlfriend, supposedly, thought that way about her, then it had to be true, and how could anyone else think any different?

Whatever Rachel thought or felt, Santana knew she loved her. Rachel had one thing right, it wasn't easy. In fact, loving Rachel so far had brought her considerable extra pain, struggle, and confusion that hadn't been present in her life before, all of this much more so than when she had simply loved Brittany. Even as much as it hurt to hide her love for Brittany and be unsure whether the blonde loved her back, somehow it had still been simpler and easier than loving Rachel, because Santana had always known one thing for sure. Brittany would always love her too, even if it wasn't necessarily romantically. No matter what Santana did or said or how mean or selfish or thoughtless she was, Brittany would always accept her and love her and not try too hard to change her or shame her for it. For Brittany, Santana was who she was and that was it. She didn't push her to be better or different, and so Santana didn't really try to be.

It was only recently that Santana was discovering she didn't like the person she was when she was with Brittany. Maybe she didn't like who she was with Rachel either, but at least with Rachel, whatever Rachel seemed to think to the contrary, she was aware of this fact and she was trying to change. Maybe not as fast or drastically or whole-heartedly as Rachel seemed to want, but she was. SHE WAS.

And if that wasn't good enough for her, then how could it ever be? Maybe Rachel didn't want to hear it, but she wasn't good enough for her. That was all there was to it.

All these years, deep down, maybe a part of Santana had known it all along. Maybe the reason she had really wanted Rachel to be so miserable, as she had told her, was because she knew that the girl really was pretty and talented and going places that Santana probably wouldn't, that she was still confident enough to be herself when Santana, the supposed trinity of hotness in the school, couldn't even accept herself without trying to alter her body with drastic measures. She had known that Rachel was better. She still was. And she had known that she, Santana, whatever efforts she might make, was never really going to make a change that mattered…or really want to badly enough to really try.

So here Rachel was, telling her to change and give and try and Santana didn't know how to do any of it because to her, she had felt she was doing ALL of it. She had told Quinn and Brittany and everyone else to leave Rachel alone, hadn't she? Hadn't she told them both how she loved her even though it made Brittany upset and mad with her and Quinn had made fun of her? Hadn't she told the jocks to lay off even though they all had even more sexual comments than usual for her now? Hadn't she told Brittany she couldn't sleep with her and hadn't she been trying to not tease Rachel as much herself? Hadn't she come over every time Rachel asked and hugged her when she was sad and helped her get new clothes and put up with her stupid pajamas and let her kiss her in public? What else did Rachel want, what else could she do?

Santana truly didn't know, and all she wanted was for Rachel to just give her a list of things to do so she knew EXACTLY what she wanted. It would make it easier if she could just have it spelled out what the girl expected so she could just DO it. But her instruction to just give to her and love her? What did she want her to give her? She already loved her…so if she didn't have specific instructions, then obviously she would just keep doing how she had been doing and obviously that was fucking up, or else Rachel wouldn't be so upset with her now.

How was she supposed to do this?

The more she thought about it, as she slowly pulled together the clothes and personal supplies she would need to stay the night, the more upset Santana grew, until she found herself in a very familiar position, using a very familiar method to try to shove down her feelings once more. Within the locked door of her bathroom, kneeling down in front of the toilet, she tried, with her usual efforts, to make herself vomit. Only this time there seemed to be a problem. She couldn't seem to bring anything up, and in fact could barely get a gag reflex at all, which only further agitated her. What was wrong with her, how could she even fail at THIS?

It dawned on her after a few minutes of hunching over the bowl, teary-eyed and shaking, trying, that she had not eaten anything but the sandwich half in at least 40 hours and that clearly her body seemed determined to keep it. For another couple of minutes Santana sat back on her heels, fighting tears as this latest "failure" sank in. But as her breathing slowed again, her thoughts began to take a different direction.

This was ridiculous. No, more than ridiculous, this was pathetic. SHE was pathetic. What the hell was she doing, taking a Internet bitch slap like Rachel's and just accepting it? She was Santana fucking Lopez! Who was Rachel Berry to think she could lay into her like that and she'd take it laying down? She would show her, she was going over there right now and she was going to prove to her exactly what she had coming to her. She thought she was a bitch now? She would show her a REAL bitch. She thought Santana was mean now? She could show her cruel, and she would damn well show her she wasn't a coward. She thought she wasn't trying? She would SHOW her what it was like not to care and not to give and not to try, she would make her skin SCREAM instead of just crawl. She could hurt Rachel like no one else for hurting her, and maybe she just would.

She started to push herself up to her feet, her features pinched with anger now, and as she started to gather her things up with jerky motions, heading for the door, she still had it in her head that she was going to break in on Rachel screaming and fighting and accusing, accepting and "giving" nothing except hell. But by the time she got into her car and started the engine, her thinking had shifted, yet again, and she paused before driving off.

She was right. It was pathetic, to think and behave like she was. Towards Rachel, towards other people…towards herself. She was Santana Lopez…but what did that mean? Who was she, really? And who did she want to be?

Did she really want to be someone who made other people hate themselves? Did she really want to be someone no one could trust or like or feel safe around? Did she really want to go through life not trusting anyone, not having anyone who would be honest with her, even when she didn't want to hear it, and force her to be honest with herself? Did she really want to hate herself and everything in her life, every time she looked in the mirror?

Did she really want to let someone like Rachel, someone who could be those things, if she let her, slip away?

Santana didn't know who she was, not really. But she was starting to think she knew what she wanted.

By the time she arrived at Rachel's house, she walked to the door with her head held high, her shoulders squared, and if she didn't feel quite at home in her body, she had made up her mind that she was going to walk like she did until her feelings matched up. As she walked in without knocking, finding Rachel, she stopped in front of her, looked her in the eye, and said with determination, "I'm going to change. Okay? I don't know how I'll do it but I know I want to. So I'm going to. Because you deserve it. You deserve me to change and treat you well…you're worth it."

She paused, taking in a breath, and started again.

"You're right. It's harder to love you and I don't even know if I really know how. You're right that I don't trust you. But I want to. I think you've earned it. I'm not promising you a miracle or a fast change but I am promising to try. Because I want to be who you deserve. I'm…I'm tired of being angry. I'm tired of being sad and hurt and caring what everyone else thinks or sees…I'm….I'm tired of being scared. I'm tired of hating me for everything. I want to stand up and open my eyes and keep walking…and I'll do it. I'll take the steps. But…"

But…" and this was the part that was hard, the part that was almost impossible. The part she had never voiced, ever, but she forced her way through, knowing that it was true too.

"But I need help."

She paused again, watching Rachel's face before explaining.

"I'm not saying to give me more than I give you. But I do need help. I don't know how to do this by myself. I don't know if I even can. I need you there…maybe not holding my hand, but like…standing nearby…yelling out if I'm walking over a cliff or into traffic. Because…I might tell you that's exactly where I want to go…but it's not."

She took another deep breath in, let it out, her voice lowering.

"Will you…will you help me?"

Rachel had been laying on the couch, nearly half asleep, by the time Santana arrived.

When the door clicked, it took her a moment to realize what was going on, and she was only just starting to sit up and blink her eyes open when Santana was suddenly in front of her. She looked up at the girl, taken a back a little at the look her eyes, and for a moment definitely expected some form of yelling.

That was not what she got.

And as Santana kept talking, Rachel managed to sit up, listening intently to the girl (who was clearly very focused on getting the words out since she hadn't even given a second glance at Rachel's white and pink footies or the two braids her hair was in) and trying to catch up with what was being said.

Santana was to change, was essentially the gist of it all. Rachel listened, though, biting her lip to keep from interrupting as the cheerleader went on, though it was hard to hide the surprise at hearing Santana say she was right…

Still, by the end of it, there were tears in the corners of her eyes, and she was giving the girl a small, watery smile.

Standing up, Rachel drew Santana into a tight hug, wrapping her arms around her neck and holding her as close she as could. The diva took that moment to compose herself, before drawing back enough to look up at Santana and nodding assuredly. "Of course I'll help. I'll help you however you need me to, Santana. And you _can _do it. You can do anything."

Rachel brought her hands up to cup Santana's cheeks, sliding them softly up into Santana's hair and drawing her down the couple of inches to kiss her softly on the lips. "Thank you," she said against the girl's lips. "Thank you for listening, and wanting to try. And remember that I believe in you, alright? And I'm not going to go anywhere. So worry about being happier, and not me leaving. Because I won't. You'd have to physically throw me out your door, and even then I might stand on top of your car with a boom box and serenade you through the night," spoke Rachel firmly, though with a small, teasing smile.

She kissed Santana again, trying to express just how much she was feeling right in that moment; relief, happiness, love… Some frustration, yes, and exhaustion. But it all just accumulated into love, in the end.

If Santana was still willing to fight for them, then of course Rachel was as well. And in that moment she didn't have any more words, and, frankly, Santana had always been better at understand a more hands-on language, and was certainly more fluent in it.

Drawing back less than an inch, Rachel spoke quietly against her lips; "I love you, and I am so, so very proud of you."

It was true; Santana hadn't even noticed Rachel's attire with her focus and intensity on getting out the words and saying them all the right way, in the right order. As Rachel wraps her arms around her, pulling her in as close as she can get, Santana closes her eyes, hugging her back and inhaling her scent as she lets her face come to rest in the crook of Rachel's neck. She can faintly feel Rachel's pulse against her skin and tightens her arms around her, not wanting to let go.

She had not realized until then how tensely she had been holding herself, and she relaxes into her, her hands splayed against Rachel's back and between her shoulder blades. As Rachel draws back, looking her in the eyes and stroking her face before kissing her, Santana closes her eyes, putting all her feelings into the kiss and hoping that through it, Rachel can see just how much she really does love her, just how much she wants her. How much she wants to give to her, even if she doesn't have any idea of where to start.

She smiles against Rachel's lips when the girl tells her that she loves her, that she's proud of her, and kisses her back, a little more gently than before, and then, forehead pressed to hers, whispers, "I love you too…mi lucero."

Relaxing completely into Santana's arms, Rachel blushes, smiling shyly and using one of her hands to tuck some stray strands of hair behind her ear. "I've no idea what that means, but you spoke Spanish and that always makes me melt inside, so…" Giggling, letting her hands trail up and down Santana's biceps and shoulders, Rachel sighed.

"Alright. Let's take this conversation to bed, yes? We can lay down, and talk more, or make out, or whatever you want- Oops. You need to eat a snack first. Come on." Pulling away, taking Santana's hand firmly in her own, Rachel led her girlfriend into the kitchen.

Turning around, she spoke, "You know where everything is now, I believe. I'm going to go get the bed ready, okay? I don't want you to freak out by me watching you, and I trust you'll keep your word and at least have something edible." Pecking Santana on the lips and giving her hand a squeeze, Rachel backed away, waiting for the very last second to let go of Santana's hand, and then made her way upstairs to her room.

All instincts told her to stay down there and make sure Santana was eating. But, at least tonight for sure, she wanted to make sure that Santana knew that Rachel trusted her. Not to mention, she had figured out that being watched made the girl more anxious.

She closing her door softly behind her, Rachel let out a slow breath, going to her bed and moving the heavy comforter off, leaving just a sheet and a light blanket. Santana made more than enough heat for the both of them, to be honest.

Once done, she took her hair out of the braids, clicked off the main light, leaving only the lamp on Santana's side on, and crawled into bed, waiting for the Latina to join her.

Santana's heart Began to beat faster as Rachel lead her into the kitchen, telling her it was time for a snack. Logically, she knows very well it's time to eat. The last thing she needs is to pass out around Rachel, ever, or act even slightly faint or weak or anything like that at any time, and give her ammunition that she was right or worse, that Santana wasn't trying. It was time to eat something. But knowing that and telling herself that and actually making herself go do it were two different things.

But then Rachel actually left, rather than standing there breathing down her neck and placing specific foods in her hands, which Santana had expected. She actually walked away. Walked away, leaving her standing there alone, to pick her own snack- or possibly pick nothing at all.

Completely unexpected. And completely something Santana could take advantage of- if she chose. Rachel would never have to know if she walked out of the room having eaten nothing, or having just drank a few glasses of water. She would never know.

She stood there for a few minutes without moving, torn, considering this option with strong urge to follow it. But she had promised Rachel she would change. She had promised herself that she would, and she had told herself that she was tired of hating herself, tired of holding herself to such a harsh standard, every bit as bad as she did others.

Rachel would never now. But she would.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the refrigerator, finding some leftover vegetable lasagna, and stared at it for several moments. It looked decent. Vegetables were healthy. But what about butter and noodles and oils and…so much could be in there, they could have thrown handfuls of sugar for all she knew. They could have rolled it in fat.

This was too much, so she ended up getting a handful of blueberries, rationalizing to herself they were good for the skin and fought cancers, and pouring a bowl of fiber based cereal with soy milk, all which she read the labels of very carefully, but nevertheless sat down to eat. It took her longer than it normally would, knowing that she would not be able to allow herself to get rid of it later, but she did eat most of it. Still bothered by this, yet feeling a small spark of what she thought of as really stupid pride, she cleaned up after herself and then slipped in bed beside Rachel, noticing and smirking slightly at the footie pajamas for the first time. She is still thinking of the food she just ate, but as she curls in close to Rachel, it is easier to push it aside and think instead of how cool she feels against her overly warm skin.

Rachel us half asleep once again as she feels Santana's warm body curling itself around her, and when she blinks her eyes open she's met with the sight of Santana's neck.

And some cleavage.

Face red (she wonders if she'll ever stop blushing when it comes to the girl), Rachel is just glad Santana can't see her cheeks right now. But she smiles, snuggling in closer. "Mm, tell me a story," she murmurs sleepily, cuddling as close to Santana as humanly possible, tangling their legs together and yawning widely.

"You can even tell it in Spanish if you want. I love when you speak Spanish. Someone told me once your pronunciation is off sometimes but I'm not fluent so it still sounds pretty." Now that things between them had settled, at least for tonight, Rachel felt safe letting her filter go out the window. And it helped that she was so tired for the past few days anyway.

"Off?" Santana lifted her head, half indignant. "I'm Puerto Rican, I think I would know how to pronounce shit. Who told you that, Mr. Cucaracha Shue? Like he knows what he's talking about, he probably thinks we all sit around in sombreros and ride burros everywhere we go, for real."

Rolling her eyes, she lays her head down on Rachel's chest, wrapping her arms as she begins to speak to her in Spanish. Somehow it is easier then, knowing that Rachel has no idea what she's saying, to tell her exactly what she's thinking. Her voice soft, her slightly fast heartbeat slowing as she continues, she tells her in Spanish the following.

"I can't think of a story so I'm just going to talk. You want me to talk to you? Okay…I'll try. You don't know what I'm saying, right? I mean Mr. Shue can't teach worth a shit so I doubt it. Anyway…I did what you asked, I ate something. I'm still…it's still hard though because I keep thinking about it and I want to…you know what I want but I won't do it. I'm not getting up because I'm here with you and you're warm and soft and your boobs are awesome pillows and you'd scream in my ear anyway over it. And I told you I wouldn't, so I won't. It's still hard though….it's a little easier though when I'm with you like this. Keep laying with me like this? Make me not think?"

She paused, reaching to stroke a hand down Rachel's arm before continuing, still in Spanish, her voice dropping lower. "I love you. I really do. I'm sorry for everything I've ever done to you and everything I'm ever gonna do in the future….I'm going to try so hard to be better for you but I know I'm gonna fuck it up sometimes so…I'm sorry. In advance. Please stick with me because I want you, so much."

Some time during Santana's speech, of course, Rachel had rolled onto her back, and she vaguely felt Santana wrap around her more. Her eyes were closed, breathing even, and the more Santana spoke, the drowsier she became.

There was something soothing about listening to Santana speak, and the Spanish flowed over her ears like water. She could catch bits and pieces, but it was easier to just let it become music to her ears, so to speak, than actually think about what was being said. It sounded soft, though. And sincere.

Then a hand was stroking her arm, and instinctively she rolled over to her side, latching onto the arm and scooting back to Santana, making the girl spoon her. "I really love you, Santana," Rachel whispered when she realized that Santana was no longer speaking. "You're warm, and safe. I like safe." She brought the arm closing to her chest, curling up more against Santana and sighing happily.

"You-" she yawned, "You're really wonderful, even when you sort of suck."

Not long after that, Rachel was, in fact, fast asleep, snoring softly and looking more relaxed and at peace than she had in days.

It took Santana longer than Rachel to fall asleep. Although she did gradually feel relaxed, calm, lying so close to Rachel, the girl's back pressed into her chest, she was still full of thoughts that would not entirely fade. It occurred to her as she continued to murmur to her under her breath that somehow it actually did seem to help to talk to her, even if, or maybe exactly because Rachel couldn't understand. Somehow putting her thoughts and feelings out there aloud, where someone could hear even if they couldn't understand, seemed to help somehow as though they were being removed from her. Lying with Rachel, she closed her eyes, her lips twitching as she listened to Rachel's snoring, before she eventually drifted off herself.


	33. Chapter 33

Texts

Brittany: Ugh, I feel sick.

Santana: What's wrong?You okay?

Brittany: Eh, yeah. My stomach is just a little upset. Tina's totally going to take care of it though.

Santana: Tina, huh? Did you eat that fondue after Lord Tubbington? Should I come over?

Brittany: Yeah, she's gonna make a care package… I'm not sure what exactly is in one, but she's going to make one. No, not this time.

Brittany: No, that's okay, Santana. I wouldn't want to spread my stomachache.

Santana: It's stuff that makes you feel better when you're sick.

Santana: I don't care, Britt, I won't get sick.

Brittany: Oh. Plus a Care Bear… maybe. It's okay. Go hang out with Rachel or something, I'll be fine. I'll just see you at school tomorrow.

Santana: That would be cool but I don't think Tina's awesome enough to know how much you like those. Or, like, awesome at all. How come you don't mind getting Tina sick?

Brittany: She's like super awesome, Santana. She can talk, did you know that? And she's beyond smart- she has literally the best ideas, she likes Chuck E. Cheese pizza. Oh and she can draw, she's gonna teach me how. I didn't think she was that cool either, but really she is.

Brittany: Because she knows how to make care packages.

Santana: …..you know what a care package is? like, a towel, Tylenol, and chicken soup. Anyone can make those and not anyone will know you like Care Bears. I can talk. I eat pizza. And I can do all that without coloring markers through my hair, stealing the outfits of Morticia's skanky teenage long lost sister, and impersonating a skipped Cd at all times.

Santana: What ideas does she have that are so freaking awesome anyway?

Brittany: Yeah, but Tina said she's really good at it. I told her I liked Care Bears, that's why it's being included in the care package. Santana, be nice, I like her!

Brittany: Well, when I didn't know whether to work at Chuck E. Cheese or to dance, she said to work at Chuck E. Cheese until I become a dancer.

Santana: You like EVERYONE. If I had to be nice to everyone you like I would have to be nice to, like, every person I ever see, and then I wouldn't be your cool Santana anymore.

Santana: I could have told you that.

Brittany: Please be nice! I think if you got to know Tina, you'd think she was super cool too.

Brittany: But you didn't, so good idea goes to Tina.

Santana: Hope Tina makes you feel better.

Brittany: Are you mad?

Santana: No.

Brittany: Please don't be. Pretty please?

Santana: I'm not. Tina has the best ideas and she's cool and stuff so she should totally take care of you.

Brittany: Are you sure? I don't want you to be mad at me just because Tina's gonna give me a care package.

Santana: I'm not, it's okay. Feel better, Britt-Britt.

(two hours later)

Brittany: I wanna go go shopping. Even though all the stores are closed and I still feel yucky and super sick. Life is very extremely hard.

Santana: Tina's super special Care package didn't work?

Brittany: NyQuilworks, makes me sleep through the nasty grossness. So, it does work, it just hasn't cured me yet.

Santana: Don't go to school..stay home, okay? I can come over after cheerios.

Brittany: Okay. I'll give you leftover care package just in case I get you sick. And you can borrow my Care Bear.

Santana: I won't get sick. I'll bring Mr. Penguin too.

Brittany: Never know, just in case. Cool beans, Santana, sounds like a super good plan.. I mean, as long as we get to cuddle too.

Santana: Of course. That's what makes you better when you feel bad. Bet Asian Fixation didn't know that

Brittany: Cool. Santana… she has a name.

Santana: I know, it's some weird sound like you rang a bell. Clang or Dang or Fang or something. You want me to bring Monkeypants too?

Brittany: It's Tina...you know that. And yes please.

Santana: Whatever. K coming after Cheerios.

88

The sniffling, the coughing… being sick in general was officially getting old. Knowing that Santana was going to come over and cuddle to make her feel better _did _make her feel somewhat well again. The only thing she wasn't happy about was the fact that Santana was being mean to Tina, who Brittany really considered a very close friend now- she would say best friend but that was reserved for Santana- even though they hadn't hung out with each other outside of school.

From the sofa, Brittany saw Santana's car pull into the drive way. Usually she would've fixed her hair to make it look not so frizzy, but she just tightened her arms around the Care Bear that Tina had given her. She wasn't worried about answering the door because Santana lets herself in all the time, so she just kept glancing over at the door waiting for her to walk in.

Santana did not like hearing that Brittany might let Tina take care of her when she was sick.

That was a role reserved for Santana and Santana alone. SHE was her best friend, not Tina, and she knew Brittany way better than anyone else ever could. Who else know exactly how Brittany liked to have her pillows and blankets and stuffed animals and which medicines made her want to throw up and which she would eat like candy if Santana didn't watch her? Who else knew what cartoons would make Brittany smile and which would make her cry? Who else knew exactly what snacks she would eat when her stomach hurt and how she liked to have her hair played with or how she liked to have her back or shoulders rubbed? No one but Santana, that was who, and she was NOT giving Tina the chance to find out.

It wasn't something Santana could admit even to herself, but she was jealous. She didn't want anyone but herself to know Brittany so well and to have Brittany's admiration. This was her job, her Brittany, even if she wasn't actually "hers" anymore at all.

Armed with a duffel bag in which the stuffed animals Brittany liked best, several cold medicines, tissues, her favorite DVDs and CDs, washcloths, and blankets was loaded up, Santana walked right into Brittany's house finding her, sniffly and disheveled on the sofa. Frowning, she dropped the bag in front of the sofa and went to kneel in front of her, smoothing a hand over Brittany's warm forehead.

"Hey, sweetie, I'm here. How you doing? You take any medicine yet?"

Brittany let out a small giggle when she saw the duffle bag Santana sat down, of course she'd bring a bag full of stuff. She probably had things to make her feel better in there, but there was still something sort of funny about it.

"Are you moving in?" She asked, pointing at the obviously stuffed duffle bag. "I'm okay. I feel a little better than I did. And no, I haven't today, I either lost the NyQuil Tina gave me or I used all of it. I'm not 100% sure either way."

There was no room for Santana on the sofa, there was a pile of blankets over her feet and Lord Tubbington was lying on top of that. He'd been lying with her and following her around since she became sick, making sure she as okay. She sat up and made Lord Tubbington get off, only because he and Santana had a bad history for some reason, before she shoved the blankets off. She patted the now empty spot as she laid her head against the back of the sofa.

Opening the duffle bag, Santana took out the Nyquil and a bottle of Tylenol as well, setting them on the floor before heading to the Pierce kitchen. Pouring both a glass of water and a glass of orange juice, she carried them both into the living room and set them on the coffee table. Sitting next to Brittany on the couch, she stroked her hair back from her forehead, then held up the dose of Nyquil.

"Open wide." Dispensing the medicine, she rubbed Brittany's arm as though to comfort for the taste before fishing out the pills, handing her the water to swallow them down. "That's if you feel achy or have a headache. Drink all the water and then the orange juice too in a little while."

Fishing out both stuffed animals, she settled them onto Brittany's lap, waiting for her to finish, then cuddled in closer to her side, wrapping an arm around her and pulling Brittany's head against her shoulder. Maybe Tina had tried to take care of her before but Santana was definitely gonna do a better job.

Brittany gulped down the water Santana had_ just_ given to her to get the terrible taste of the medicine out of her mouth, she was supposed to save that for the other medicine, but she couldn't help it, it seemed like she'd never get rid of the awful taste. She placed the empty glass on the table next to her. When Santana put her arm around Brittany, it made her feel nice. Santana was the first person to really come over and take care of her besides Tina once… and Lord Tubbington. Santana _was_ however, the first one to bring a bag full of stuff.

"You know, you're kind of like a doctor." Brittany laid her head on Santana's shoulder. "But a doctor who comes to my house and brings stuffed animals and cuddles. So, I guess not really like a doctor at all."

Brittany coughed into the sleeve of her shirt, and then sighed heavily. The back of her throat felt like someone had a feather and was tickling it, but it wasn't the fun kind of tickle.

"I was a candy striper, I got mad feel-better skills," Santana smiled, bending her neck to kiss Brittany's forehead. The skin still felt warm, and she began to stroke her fingers slowly through Brittany's hair, trying to tame the tangled, frizzy strands. "If you want to be better, you gotta come to the best."

Still playing with Brittany's hair, she moved her other hand to rub circles on her back, slow, soothing. "You have any Vicks? If your nose is stuffy, you should use that too."

Most people wouldn't predict, from knowing her at school, that she would have any interest at all in helping sick people, but it was secretly something that made Santana feel sort of good, like she had some kind of skill and yet also power over them, that they needed her. With Brittany especially.

The blonde nodded her head, it was true, Santana was a candy striper at the hospital and that meant that Santana _did _kind of know what she was doing even though she _wasn't_ a doctor. Santana was the closest thing she could get though.

"If Lord Tubbington hasn't eaten it all, yes." Lord Tubbington had moved his addition from mouthwash to Vicks since Brittany hid all of it. "I probably sound all gross, right?"

Had Santana not come over and taken care of her, Brittany would probably still be miserable. She'd be lying on the sofa all by herself with her cat. "Thanks for coming here, Sanny. You're _pretty_ cool." Brittany was extremely appreciative of that fact she took time out of her day- time she could've spent with her girlfriend- to come take care of her. She wanted to put that out there before the NyQuil kicked, she didn't want to fall asleep without letting Santana know that.

"Nah, you're never gross," Santana shook her head, even as she reached for the box of tissues on the coffee table and handed Brittany one. "I think I have another think of Vicks in the bag so don't worry about it."

Pulling away from Brittany enough to snag hold of the back and lift it onto her lap, Santana dug through its contents, fishing out the bottle in question and setting it in Brittany's lap. She smiled at Brittany's word, squeezing her shoulder, and slipped her arms around her waist, leaning her chin onto the girl's arm.

"I'm wicked awesome out of this world amazing, and so are you."

Never gross? Santana was wrong there, she looked homeless and half the homeless people Brittany knew were pretty gross. She ignored her and watched as she dug through the duffle bag."Do you have a whole pharmacy in there?" She looked down at the bottle of Vicks in her lap.

A big smile came across her face. "Got that right."

She let Santana hold her for a minute, but soon scooted over far enough so she couldn't hit Santana as she took her arms out of the sleeves of her shirt exposing her shoulders and chest. Breathing was definitely something Brittany needed to do; she got a bit of the Vicks and rubbed it on her chest before moving back over to Santana.

Averting her eyes when Brittany applied the Vicks to herself, just to keep herself from feeling anything she knew she shouldn't by seeing her touching herself, Santana waited for her to finish, then took the jar from her, screwing the cap back on and setting it beside her on the couch. As Brittany nestled against her again, she wrapped her arms around her again, fingers smoothing through her hair.

"Sleep if you want, Britt-Britt. I don't mind."

Sleep sounded good at that point, the medicine was kicking in, and she had been tired even before then so the mix was definitely making her even sleepier than she had. At the same time, she did feel a little bad just falling asleep when Santana had come all the way across town to help her out, but it wouldn't be the first time and she wasn't about to refuse sleep; she simply nodded her head and closed her eyes.

Arranging them so that Brittany was leaning back against her chest, her head against her shoulder, Santana, arms around her, continued to stroke her hair, humming softly in her ear. Brittany's weight was warm, soothing against her, and it felt nice to be there with her, to feel that she was helping her. To feel like she was sort of making up for how much she had hurt her, to know they could still be close.

Continuing to murmur songs to her quietly as Brittany drifted off, Santana relaxed too. Brittany was one of the few people in the world who could make her feel completely safe and accepted, completely wanted and needed. She was so glad that maybe, just maybe, it could still be like that between them.


	34. Chapter 34

It wasn't exactly a traditional date, the way Rachel was probably expecting, but that was exactly the point. And anyway, she was getting off pretty lightly, really. What Santana had really wanted and seriously considered doing was simply taking Rachel off to a deserted area, parking the car, and using every last one of the sex toys she had refused to let Rachel witness her buying in the adult store, but she had reluctantly put that idea on the back burner, deciding that maybe romance instead of raunch was in order for a while longer first.

The idea had come to her in one of her many daydreams, when she happened to be imagining to herself how Rachel's body would look in various bikinis that Santana herself owned. She was just wishing that she or Rachel had a pool so she could know exactly the answer to this fantasy when it dawned on her she didn't have to wait for her own. Her neighbor just two houses down from her was gone for the weekend, had been for two days already of the week as well, and their pool would more than suffice. If they weren't using it, why couldn't Santana?

She had hurried over after cheerleading practice and a quick shower, spending a little more time than she had planned worriedly pinching at her body and trying to adjust herself in her bikini before just steeling herself to stop, telling herself that there was nothing much more she could do to feel any better about its appearance in front of Rachel and so all she could do was just act like it wasn't a thought in her head at all. Knowing Rachel was coming and that she was pressed for time, she had grabbed a six pack of Smirnoff and dug several pool noodles, one boogie board, and paper umbrellas out of the garage left over from the summer before hauling them all down the street and setting them up in the pool, having to climb the locked fence to get into the area. Throwing the toys into the pool, opening all six drinks and sticking umbrellas in the top of the bottles, and then hastily turning on all the pool lights, Santana waited for Rachel to arrive, trying to keep herself from poking, prodding, or "fixing" herself any further until she came.

This was going to be completely sexy and awesome and that was all that mattered.

It took Rachel 15 minutes to decide what to wear.

The majority of her suits were one pieces, but she knew that one of the main reasons Santana wanted to go swimming was to see Rachel in as little clothing as possible and it still count as a date. She wasn't really against it, though she was curious as to what was planned.

And as far as she knew, Santana didn't have a pool…

Finally, biting her lip, she took out one of the few two piece suits she had. The one she chose was pink, and though modest for a bikini, was _still _a bikini. She had never worn it, having bought it in a sudden surge of confidence when she had been dating Finn. Apparently, though, it would be used for another person's viewing pleasure.

She put it on, looking at herself anxiously in her full-body mirror. Her stomach was flat, and somewhat toned (though not to the extent that the Cheeriors were kept fit), her legs were fantastic, and she had to admit that even her ass looked alright.  
Though she did somewhat wish her had more to her chest… Still, Santana liked her body. And Rahel kept reminding herself of that over and over again as she put on a sundress, grabbed her sandals, and told her dads that she was going to Santana's.

And she continued to tell herself that it was going to be okay, and that Santana wanted to see her body, and thought she was hot, even if Rachel wasn't so sure of those things. Finally, she parked just down the street from Santana's house, and texted the girl to let her know she had arrived.

She sat in the car, motor and lights off, waiting for her girlfriend to arrive.

"It'll be just fine, Rachel. It's just swimming. And just with Santana. Sexy, gorgeous, incredibly in shape Santana Lopez. …I really do hope she actually knows how to perform CPR. This could go terribly…" spoke to the girl to herself, fidgeting nervously in her car.

When Santana got the text that Rachel was there, she slipped on a loose dress over her bikini and mounted the fence again, walking down the street to meet her. It was already growing dark, but she nevertheless had sunglasses on for the look if nothing else. Coming up alongside Rachel's car as she spotted it, she knocked on the window, smiling, even as she gestured for her to open the door.

"Lock your shit in your trunk glovebox and lock your door," she instructed; though her particular street was okay, one block over was a bad area and everyone in Lima Heights knew it. "And stay with me, k?"

Waiting for Rachel to get out of the car, she took her hand, pulling her close but not kissing her- not in public, not on this street- to give her a quick hug before beginning to lead her towards the neighbor's house.

"So I hope your little legs can stretch pretty far 'cause we're jumping a fence."

Rachel did as told, glad that she had decided against bringing more than her license and a towel with her, and took Santana's hand after locking up her door, squeezing a little harder than usual.

She had never been in Lima Heights near dark, and while Santana's parents lived comfortable, she had heard more than a few stories about some of the other blocks. From Santana and other people.

It wasn't until the Latina mentioned a fence that she nearly stopped, tripping over her feet and whipping her head around. "Ex-ex_cuse me_?" she hissed, eyes wide in surprise and trepidation. "Santana Lopez are we trespassing? Because that is incredibly illegal and I'll have you know that a perfect and flawless personal record is _extremely _important in terms of getting into any of the private colleges that I have looked at and I refuse to become a delinquent! Furthermore-"

Santana squeezed Rachel's hand back, angling her body so she was partly blocking her from view of any cars that might go by as though to unconsciously protect her. As they came up on the house in question and Rachel pulled her to a stop, already flipping out, Santana turned to her, eyebrows raised. She had expected this.

"They're not home, they're not coming home, we'll clean up and no one can see us from the front of the place anyway. Chill. It's not like we're breaking into a bank, it's a friggin swimming pool. Plus I already put stuff in there so I have to go back in anyway. Now come on, already, we're losing precious semi naked time."

Huffing, but now distracted by the words "semi-naked" and very much curious as to what Santana was wearing under that barely-there dress, Rachel sighed heavily and led Santana lead her to the fence.

Though not in Cheerio's and lacking the upper body strength that would have come from that, Rachel was a dancer, and so with a bit of a boost from Santana was easily able to jump over the fence. As she turned to see the pool, she was star-struck, hands clasping just under her chin and biting her lower lip to stop from squealing in delight.

"Oh Santana… It's so pretty!"

The second Santana was over the fence she pulled the Latina into a hot kiss. This date was apparently going to be simple, nice, and probably very heated. And Rachel was okay with that. As long as it didn't go _too _far and she didn't drown.

Santana had gone to some effort to make the date nicer than bare minimum, but to her eyes, it still looked basically like a pool with lights with some drinks hastily set out. Still, if Rachel was thrilled, score points for her.

She barely had her feet touching the ground before Rachel had pulled her close and was kissing her, which Santana did not hesitate to respond to, pulling Rachel close. She rubbed a hand over her back and then pulled away after a few moments, gesturing for Rachel to undress.

"Drinks first, or throw you in, then drinks? On second thought, I give you about five seconds before one way or another I'ma have you soaked."

She grinned, making it clear from her tone the innuendo.

Flushing, already more "wet" than she cared to admit from the kiss, Rachel cleared her through, glancing at the alcohol, then back at Santana. "Are you sure alcohol is a good idea? Because we've seen me on drinking, and it's really not pretty. I get really clingy and emotional."

The last time she had had _any _alcohol had been at the party Santana had dragged her to, and Lord knew how well that had gone.

Still, if only for the sake of saving her dress from the pool chemicals, Rachel stepped away from Santana about a foot or so, and slipped out of her sundress.

She immediately felt exposed and vulnerable, though not nearly as nervous as she had been in the past. Rachel realized that she had, in fact, been getting more comfortable around Santana. It was a slow process, sure, but it was happening. Biting her lip, the brunette clasped her hands behind her back to keep from covering herself, shifting somewhat awkwardly from foot to foot, trying ignore that her face was still a bit heated and that she felt like her stomach wasn't toned enough and her boobs were much too small.

"Clingy sounds awesome," Santana's grin widened, and she watched, somewhat nervous, though concealing it, as Rachel undressed, quickly slipping out of her own clothes and tossing them onto a lounging chair behind her. Shoving down her insecurity, as well as her impulse to compare her body to Rachel's, she let her eyes move over Rachel's body. She had seen the girl naked, at least partially, but somehow, seeing her in a bikini was a whole new and entirely differently exciting experience.

Stepping forward slowly, she took both of Rachel's hands, lifting them to her mouth to kiss the knuckles as she smiled into her eyes, sincere.

"How the hell do I end up with a girl this hot?"

Leaning in, she kissed Rachel, softly at first, then more thoroughly, still holding her hands. Then, pulling back, with a sudden victorious yell, she grabbed her around the waist and ran with her, dragging her, into the pool, hitting the water with her arms still wound around Rachel, dragging her down beneath the surface with her

dragging her down beneath the surface with her.

Rachel barely had time to scream before she was being thrown into the water, Santana's arms wrapped around her waist and bring her down under the surface.

She swallowed some water on accident, pushing herself to the surface as quickly as possible and grabbing the wall, clinging to it as she coughed up some water, clearing out her lungs and throat. Taking a few deep breaths, and certainly not one to lose any sort of competition, the moment she recovered enough to breathe, Rachel was spinning around and tackling Santana back into the water with a near-evil grin, hands on the Latina's shoulders to dunk her under for a second or two.

When was the last time she had just messed around in a pool with someone she cared about beyond family?

Ages, Rachel was sure. She couldn't even recall it, were she honest.

Santana had swam to one of the noodles floating in the pool, draping her arms casually over it and lazily kicking in Rachel's direction as she waited for the girl to recover, still grinning with much amusement at having caught her so off guard. When Rachel comes at her in retaliation, shoving her under, Santana is prepared and manages to shut her mouth. The noodle hits them both as it attempts to bob to surface beneath the weight being pressed on it, and Santana laughs underwater, even as she reaches out shoving at Rachel, trying to get her away. The efforts are half hearted, and when she comes up for air, hair slicked over her face, she is laughing even as she coughs, already reaching out for Rachel again.

"WAR!"

"No!" squeals Rachel, laughing and trying to get away, but ending up pulled under the water by the Latina chasing after her anyway. She manages to twist under water and come up the same time Santana does, and quickly she jumps onto the girls back, wrapping her legs around the Cheerio's waist and arms around her neck. She throws her weight back as hard as she can, pretty sure that the only reason Santana is actually going under the water is because the taller girl is letting it happen. But it's fun nonetheless. Ten or so minutes later Rachel is huffing for air, laying on her back in the water and trying to catch her breath. She's grinning from ear to ear, which also makes it hard to breathe, but that's okay. The date has only been going on for not even thirty minutes and she's completely forgotten about being nervous. Closing her eyes, taking a deep breath, chest rising and falling with it, Rachel hums. She straightens herself up, swimming over to Santana and wrapping her arms around the girl's neck, and smiles as she softly sing, "In your eyes, love's alive  
I've come untied 'cause we're flashing by  
Like satellites  
Satellites…

Take all the rules away  
How can we live if we don't change?  
We're always on display…let's run and hide…" Rachel knows that her voice isn't exactly meant for Beyonce power ballads, but the slower, quieter songs, she knows she can pull them off just fine. "In our eyes, love's alive  
We've come untied 'cause we're flashing by  
Like satellites  
Satellites…

If we don't communicate, we'll exist in our own space  
We have all the love we need  
While we're apart, I cannot breathe…" It's not really a movie moment at all. They're just standing in a pool, Santana hold her, pool lights illuminating them. But she's with Santana. And it's sort of perfect. "Satellites…..  
Flashing by…..  
Satellites….." Rachel finishes the song and shrugs a little. "I wanted to sing," she says softly. "You're very inspiring."

Santana lets Rachel fling her back into the water with her, causing both of them to be a tangle of bare limbs intersecting and grabbing out at each other underwater, and she relishes the feel of Rachel on her back, her arms around her neck, all this wet, bare skin directly against her own. As they resurface, dunking and pushing at and jumping on each other, not caring about the frequent mouth or nosefuls of water they end up taking in and having to cough or spit out as a result, Santana's heart feels full yet somehow light, and she can't stop smiling. She has forgotten her discomfort with herself, has forgotten that her body exists for any reason other than to feel pleasure at Rachel's touching hers. This is the most young and free and completely playful she's felt in a very long time.

When they take a break, Santana draping her arms and chin over one of the swim noodles again and slowly kicking her legs, keeping herself afloat, she feels Rachel come up to her, wrapping herself around her, and she puts her forehead against hers, adjusting so Rachel is afloat too, her lips curving into a soft smile. She can feel droplets of water from Rachel's hair and forehead dropping onto her own skin, and she listens to her voice in her ear, her body relaxed, and she thinks with sudden seriousness how much she loves her.

Rachel wants her to show it. She knows she's not very good with words, and anything she could think of would just be cliché, so she tries to show it with her eyes as she tangles her fingers through Rachel's.

"You're beautiful."

Rachel smiles, cheeks slightly tinted red. She leans in then, arms still around Santana's neck, and kisses her softly, trying to convey her feelings in return. When she finally pulls back, she ducks under the water, swimming around and away from the Latina before coming back, a teasing grin on her features as she stands up in the more shallow end of the pool, water just below her chest. She slides her hands down her sides, winking at her girlfriend. "Are you just going to stand there, Lopez? Or are you going to try and catch your girl?" asked the brunette playfully.

Oh, this was definitely a game she could be down with.

Dimpling, Santana began to kick her way towards Rachel, slowly at first, still holding onto the noodle. Then she shoved it away forcefully, diving underwater and swimming with powerful strokes directly to Rachel. Grabbing her around the legs, she pulled her down beneath the water with her, using both her own legs and her arms to hold her under once she had Rachel down. Manuevering herself so she was clinging onto Rachel's back, legs wrapped around her waist, she let them both resurface with a gasp, laughing with her face uplifted towards the night sky.

"Slowpoke."

In hindsight, challenging Santana to something athletic was probably a faulty idea. Not to mention it was much harder to move in the water than expected, and despite her best efforts Santana managed to catch her quickly enough. At least this time Rachel had been able to take a breath in before she was pulled under. It was completely ridiculous how, despite being under water, the feeling of Santana's body so completely wrapped around her, made heat race to the pit of her stomach. As they resurfaced and Rachel took in another breath, she rolled her eyes at the Latina's teasing, then turned around, forcing the slightly taller girl to stand as Rachel wrapped her legs around Santana's hips and her arms around her neck. She kissed Santana's cheek, trying to ignore how her nearly naked body was pressed against Santana's, but completely unable to ignore the obvious cleavage created by the girl's bikini. Without her consent, Rachel's eyes drifted down to watch small droplets of water make their way between the Latina's breasts, and she swallowed thickly, zoning out for a moment at the distraction.

Santana's chest is rising and falling with her slightly quickened breaths, brushing Rachel's, and she shivers despite the warmth of Rachel wrapped around her. Wrapping one arm around the girl to support her, pulling her closer to her, she puts the other hand under Rachel's backside, unable to resist a quick squeeze before hurriedly shifting her hand to her thigh.

"Sorry not sorry," she laughed, kissing the tip of Rachel's nose, then her lips. She kissed her a second time, a little more deeply, and then, following Rachel's gaze, took her hand, pressing it lightly against her chest so Rachel could feel her heartbeat beneath. She met her eyes, then, letting go of her hand started to slog through the pool still holding Rachel.

Setting her down by the ladder, she climbed out, going to grab two bottles from the umbrella'd table and handing one to Rachel in the pool. Sitting on the ladder, her legs in the water, she removed the paper umbrella from her bottle, taking a swallow and then kicking out water to splash at Rachel.

Giggling as she took the bottle and looked away to avoid the water splashed at her, Rachel took a sip of the drink, then set it down next to Santana's leg, moving in the water so that she could rest her arms on the girl's thighs, setting her chin on her arms and looking up at her. She let her gaze slowly go up cheerleader's body, reaching out one hand to trace small patterns and circles on the Latina's taunt abs. "This is a really fun date," she said, voice lower than she expected it to be. Finally looking at Santana's eyes, she smiled. "And that suit looks fantastic on you. You're really gorgeous." This was easily the most skin Rachel had seen in awhile, and she was loving it. Especially since it was wet and glistening with water and from the pool lights. Santana looked like a goddess almost. A sexy, incredible goddess that liked to kiss and cuddle with her. "Also, I'm really in love with you. Just so you're aware." Rachel lifted herself up a little out of the water long enough to peck Santana on the chin before going back into the water, arms returning to the Latina's legs and a silly, adoration filled grin playing over the singer's lips.

Rachel was right. This was really fun. Relaxing, enjoyable, and comfortable…and sexy. Definitely sexy.

Taking several more swallows of her drink, feeling warmth rush down her throat and settle pleasantly in her stomach, her body loosening still further, Santana smiled down at Rachel as the girl began to lean her weight on her legs, sighing aloud with enjoyment as one hand slowly stroked over Rachel's head, combing her wet hair back from her face. As Rachel touched her stomach, its muscles twitched, and Santana looked down, briefly uncomfortable, but the touch was nice, and Rachel was telling her she was beautiful, and that relaxed her back again.

As Rachel wrapped her arms around her legs, Santana reached down, rubbing her hand over her wet shoulders and back. Finishing off her bottle, feeling a light but pleasant warmth in her head and chest that were the first signs of light tipsiness, she slid down off the ladder, landing on her feet and wrapping her arms around Rachel, pressing their skin flush against each other.

"I have awesome ideas."

Having gotten about half way done with her bottle by the time Santana finished her own, Rachel's cheeks were permanently flushed with the beginning effects of the alcohol, and Santana pulling them flush together, with nothing between them but water and thin bikinis, only made the heat in her stomach increase and twist tighter. Raising her brow, arms settling around Santana's neck like they had become so accustomed to doing, Rachel licked her lips. "Yeah, I suppose you do… What other ideas do you have then, ?" she asked. Then, as though to help Santana out somehow, Rachel slid her hands down Santana's arms, to her hands, and moved them back so that Santana's hands were cupping her ass, her eyes never leaving the Latina's.

Santana is wet in more than one sense as she pressed her body a little nearer to Rachel's, thigh to thigh and pelvis to pelvis, chest to chest, one hand stroking over her back and shoulders, the other teasing the front of Rachel's bikini as her fingers dip beneath, stroking over her skin. She can hear her own breathing as she feels Rachel's hands cover hers, moving them to her ass instead, and she squeezes lightly, breaking out into a flushed faced grin.

"You need to dry off," she announced. "Let me help."

And she started to lick beads of water off Rachel, starting with her neck and collar bones, then slowly working her way down her chest, her tongue flicking over every beadlet of water she sees.

Rachel let out a small, breathy moan of approval as Santana squeezed her ass, but it quickly became a long drawn out sigh of pleasure once the girl began tonguing her way down the diva's body. Her body shivers, and as she reaches back blindly to steady herself on the pool wall (it and the hands still on her ass the only thing keeping her up), she can't help the way her hips buck forward in the water, or how her back arches once Santana's tongue reaches her chest. They both knew that something like this would happen, but that doesn't mean that Rachel isn't a little bit surprised, in a good way, at the other girl's casual eagerness. The idea that Santana so obviously wants her and loves as well as her body is still a novel idea to Rachel. She let's out a shuddering sigh, eyes fluttering closed. Her skin feels hotter, and she's pretty sure the wetness between her legs is no longer just from the pool. "N-not sure if that's— if that's h-helping at all," she forced out, voice low with arousal.

Santana has stooped low enough down Rachel's body that the water is now up to her chin, and she begs to work her way back up,carressing her hands over Rachel's stomach and sides. As the stroke up her back, she starts to untie the girl's bikini, smothering any protests she might make with a kiss.

Her leg is now pushed between Rachel's, her body pressed into hers, and the thick feeling in her head seems to have pushed aside all thought so only feeling remained.

Rachel shivers again as the air hits her bare nipples, making them harden almost instantly, and she can't even think about complaining or protesting because Santana is kiss her, hard, and there's a leg between her thighs and the pool wall against her back. She moans, hands tangling themselves into Santana hair as she deepens the kiss, angling her head a little bit so that her lips can move against Santana's better, and she doesn't hesitate to open her mouth enough for Santana's and her own tongue to meet. Mewling as Santana's tongue pushes into her mouth, one of Rachel's hands fall to the Latina's back, nails digging into the bare skin as she slowly starts to grind herself down onto Santana's thigh. Her other hand slides down then, slipping up under Santana's bikini top and palming the breast, squeezing lightly as Rachel moans again, unable to keep from doing so at the feel of Santana's breast in her hand. It doesn't matter if the girl has implants. They're Santana's breasts, on Santana's body. Everything about the girl is gorgeous, and Rachel can't help but swoon with the knowledge that she has an all access pass to touch and explore.

Rachel isn't protesting. Rachel in fact seems eager to go

Along with whatever Santana wants to do to her, and right now, that is touch her and kiss her and scratch her nails over her skin and then touch and kiss and grind against her some more…

Santana wedged her leg further up between Rachel's legs, pressing it against her groin as tightly as she can manage as she cups Rachel's breast in one hand, rubbing her thumb over her hardened nipple. Shivering as Rachel's hands tangle in her hair, scratching down her back, Santana kisses her with insistence, even aggression, sucking on Rachel's tongue before ending the kiss to begin to suck at her pulse point, not quite enough to make a hickey.

When Rachel touches her breasts, Santana sucks in her breath, eyes opening wide, and a short giggle escapes her. Still rubbing Rachel's nipple in a circular pattern, she pulls back from her neck, but still close enough for the girl to feel her breath against her, letting Rachel continue and now take the lead with her.

Head lolling back as Santana starts working on her pulse, it's difficult for Rachel to focus on what her hands are doing, especially since Santana's hands are incredibly talented and her nipples rather sensitive. She hasn't stop grinding against Santana's strong thigh, and each time she manages to get just the right amount of friction it's like forgetting to breathe. Finally Santana relents on her neck, and Rachel pulls her in tighter, wanting the girl's body as close to hers as possible. Santana is still working her nipple, Rachel does the same, trying to somewhat mimic what the Latina is doing and listening to any verbal and physical cues. She's touched Santana's boobs before, but only a few times, and it's still a learning process. But Santana has never complained yet, and Rachel does pride herself on picking things up quickly. That said, if she doesn't get some more articulate stimulation soon she's going to go inside. The water makes grinding not nearly as satisfying as it would be otherwise, and, head falling to rest against the space between Santana's neck and shoulder, kissing any skin she can reach, Rachel moves her hands from Santana's chest, grabs the closes wrist she can, and guides Santana's fingers to her core. It's still covered by her bikini bottom, and she wants to keep it that way, but she knows Santana can work her magic through thin layers of fabric (she's done it more times than Rachel cares to count by now), and Rachel will definitely return the favor. Probably with her mouth, if Santana lets her. She knows how to use her strongest assets.

Santana is breathing very fast now but hardly notices. Only the cool water all around her is keeping her from feeling very overheated from the combination of Rachel's body against her, Rachel's fingers on her breast, Rachel's mouth working over the curve joining her neck and shoulder. No coherent words come to her as she begins to work her way down Rachel's shoulder with her lips and tongue, lightly nipping the skin, before moving to her chest. Pushing the bikini top up, she begins to stimulate Rachel's nipple with her tongue.

Her head is spinning with the combination of her own excitement and the alcohol, and when Rachel guides her hand between her legs, where she is warm and slick and damp, even through the bikini's material, Santana rubs gently, then more firmly and fast. Pulling back from Rachel's breast, she reaches her other hand to cup Rachel's ass for support, trying not to slip in the water.

Rachel whimpered, biting down on her lip and clinging to Santana as her hips roll against the girl's knowing fingers, and her chest is heaving, small, desperate pants the only other sound she can make at this point. The hand squeezing her ass and the fingers working against her, along with the tight pressure of the thigh between her legs, is doing her in quickly. It's been awhile, after all, since they've had a chance to do this, and Rachel still isn't keen on doing it herself much, so that's hurt her usually high stamina, but really the point is that she's incredibly close already and it's a little embarrassing. But it's also really hard to care. Pulling Santana up, hands tangling into the girl's wet hair, she pulls Santana in for a hard, messy kiss, and only a few moments later is coming against her thigh and fingers, trying to muffling the sound with the kiss but unable to completely quiet the low moan of Santana's name as her body tenses up and her hips jerk sporadically, breath hitching and body shuddering hard with her release.

Santana grins widely against Rachel's mouth, very much pleased with herself when Rachel comes against her. Extracting her hand from her very slowly, she kisses her again, then fumbles to pull Rachel up against her so Rachel's legs will be wrapped around her waist. She is somewhat uncoordinated in movements now herself but is aided by the water making her weightless, and once Rachel is straddling her again, Santana clings, burying her face in her neck as her breathing continues to come, fast and hot, against her skin.

"Now you're really wet," she said teasingly, and then burst out laughing, feeling silly with her enjoyment in the moment, almost giddy. "Now you're soaked!"

She reaches out one hand just enough to splash water on Rachel's face.

Rachel is thankful that Santana is holding her up in the water, because her muscles a bit like jelly and she'll never complain about being close to her girlfriend ever. She squeals as water hits her, hiding her face in Santana's neck and giggling as they move through the water. Pulling back to look at the Latina, Rachel doesn't even care that her bikini top is still pushed up. She's very comfortable, just being close to Santana and alone. They're in their own little bubble and it's wonderful. "I can't believe I let you touch me in a public place," she says, though she can't pretend to be angry when she's still smiling and slightly dazed from her orgasm. "I mean, this isn't even _our _pool." She blushes a little, now remembering exactly where they are, but leans down to kiss Santana on the lips anyway. "But, I think I could get used to this. Especially being carried around," she teases.

"It's a house…houses are private," Santana argued, even as she continued to smile, barely agreeing with her own self. "No one can see.."

Setting Rachel down from her for a few moments, reaching to steady her, she then positioned herself in front of her and reached back, pulling Rachel onto her back piggyback style and settling her arms around her neck. With Rachel in place, Santana began to try to swim forward, finding this difficult between Rachel's weight on her back and her less coordinated stated. She frequently sinks, her mouth and nose going under, and she ends up stopping, sputtering and giggling at once, Rachel still on her back.

"You're drowning me!"

Laughing, not at all attempting to aid Santana in her swimming, Rachel giggles and pushes Santana down under the water, moving off of her smoothly with the same motion and quickly swimming out of reach. When she and Santana both come back up, she just smirks playfully. "I was your idea, ." She dives under again, swimming up to Santana and coming up right next to her, only to send a wave of water in the girl's face and then kicking away quickly, swimming as fast as she can towards the deeper end of the pool to avoid a counter attack. "Now who's soaked?" she asks from where she's treading water, giggling again and trying to keep away from Santana and avoid getting caught.

Santana yelps as Rachel splashes her, her eyes wide, and as she slicks her hair back from her face again with one hand, wiping at her eyes, she glowers, even as her eyes glow, in Rachel's direction. With a wordless yell she launches herself after her, swimming with as much splashing and kicking as she could manage while still maintaining some degree of speed.

It's not as easy for her to catch Rachel now since she is somewhat tipsy and also still laughing in spurts, but by the time she finally grabs one of Rachel's arms and throws herself onto her back, she is hardly swimming at all. Ducking Rachel's head under, still on her back, she practically screams, "DROWNER!"

Rachel manages to evade a bit better this time, but with a longer stride Santana can swim a touch faster, and she's too busy giggling to focus very well on her stroke at all. As she's pushed under she does have the chance to get a breath, and she accidentally sucks in water. Arms flailing, Rachel manages to push up and break the surface, hands automatically going to cling to Santana as she coughs and splutters, spitting up chlorine water to the side and clearing her throat. When she can breathe again, she slaps Santana's shoulder, narrowing her eyes. "You're such a jerk," she says, though there's no real strength behind her words. "It's very rude to drown your girlfriend. Especially since she hasn't gotten to repay you yet for the previous orgasm."

Santana shows no signs of regret whatsoever, still giggling against Rachel's skin as the girl expresses her indignation. She nips her neck, saying back, "You drowned me first. I'm just paying you back."

One hand rubbing over her back, fingering up her spine, she put her lips against her ear as her hand drifted lower, just above her backside. "I think you gotta return the favor then."

Breath hitching as Santana bites her neck, Rachel wraps her legs around Santana's waist, hugging the girl close and husking into her ear, "Then we'll have to get out of the pool, because I can't breathe under water and I definitely my to taste you…" With that she let's go of Santana, swimming to the nearest ladder and getting out of the pool slowly, purposefully swaying her hips as she walks over to the grab her drink, and then goes to the lounge chair nearby. She fixes her bikini top, because the air is cool in comparison to the pool, and waits for Santana to join her as she finishes off her drink.

Santana is slower to follow Rachel out of the pool, hanging onto the ladder for several moments just watching Rachel walk, her mouth slightly open. The girl's bathing suit is riding up just enough for her to see the undercurve of her buttocks, and she smiles to herself, taking her time getting up, still watching every second. Following Rachel to the lounge chair area, she takes a second bottle from one of the tables and sits on the same lounge chair as Rachel, just in front of her, as her hair drips down her back and dampens the chair beneath them. Taking a few swallows from the bottle, she reaches out and slaps Rachel's hip lightly, grinning.

"Can't reach your ass, you're sitting on it. It's been calling."

Rolling her eyes and sticking out her tongue, Rachel sets her empty bottle down and shifts, laying down as much as she can on lounge chair and raising her brow at the Latina. "Are you going to just sit there? Or are you going to come here and ride my face, dear?" she asks a little too innocently. In truth, she's a bit nervous, having never done this way before. But she's also excited, and sure that it's how she wants to do it. It's a lot less strain on her neck, and also means she gets to see Santana on to of her at an amazing angle. "I mean, unless you'd rather spank my ass instead of getting off?"

RIDE HER FACE? Had Santana seriously just heard that phrase come out the mouth of Rachel Berry?

Somehow the phrase seemed much, much hotter coming from her than from any possible other person in the world. And Santana had absolutely no hesitation to her response.

Already three quarters through the second bottle, she stands, wobbling just slightly, and strips off her bottoms, tossing them over her shoulder. With one light shove against Rachel's chest, she pushes her to a prone position on the lounge chair and then straddles her, legs spread wide, heart already beating faster in anticipation

Wrapping her arms around her girlfriend's strong thighs, Rachel takes a moment to take in the view, mouth going dry at the sight of Santana's perfectly toned abs leading straight up to those amazing breasts and the sultry, dark eyes staring down at her. Swallowing thickly, Rachel licks her lips, and focuses her attention downward onto Santana's glistening sex. With a deep breath, she pulls Santana down more solidly against her, then closes her eyes, and puts the flat of her tongue against the wet folds, licking up to Santana's clit and humming in approval at the taste. This was definitely her favorite thing to do. At least out of the things they had done up to this point. Without holding back now, Rachel takes her time to lap at every spot her tongue reach, swirling the tip around the bundle of nerves more before pushing her tongue into Santana's entrance, using hard, firm strokes against the inner muscles pulsing against her tongue and completely focused on pleasuring the girl above her.

It didn't take very long for Santana's body to respond. Already fairly aroused even before Rachel touched her, just in anticipation of what was to come, Santana moaned as soon as she felt Rachel's tongue inside her. The girl may be inexperienced, but she is a fast learner, and soon Santana is breathing in short, gasping spurts as her inner muscles clinch and unclinch in rhythm with Rachel's administrations. Reachign down to grip Rachel's shoulders for balance, Santana arches her back, curling her toes into the pavement as she moans aloud. When she comes, feeling her juices run down her inner thighs and onto Rachel's lips and chin, she is panting, her nails digging into Rachel's skin, eyes open wide as she grins loosely.

"You're so awesome," she breathes, the words barely coherent.

Rachel took her time lapping up Santana's release, kissing Santana's inner thigh before pulling back, gasping for air and licking Santana's essence from around her lips. She smiles, blushing, and giggles. "You taste awesome," she replied, before bursting into another round of giggles. That was definitely the oddest thing she had ever said in her entire life, for sure. Rachel was just about to ask Santana if she wanted a round two, when her stomach rumbled- loudly. Blushing again, this time in embarrassment, Rachel cleared her throat. "S-sorry. I uh… I haven't eaten since after school. I left before having a chance to get dinner." She hadn't even been thinking about it, actually. Her entire thought process had centered around meeting up with Santana and spending time with the girl.

When Rachel giggles, Santana giggles too, still standing over Rachel's face, though no longer making direct contact with her. She laughs harder when Rachel's stomach growls, stumbling back and falling so she's now sitting on her chest as she continues to laugh, one hand coming up to cover her mouth, damp bangs falling over her eyes.

"You sound like a monster…grrrrr!" she announces, making claws with her hands and snatching out at the air, which provokes another round of giggling. Getting off Rachel finally, she extends a hand to help her up, reaching lazily for her bottoms and nearly falling over as she attempts to pull them up her legs.

"Go eat," she told her, never mind the fact that they were not at either of their houses and Rachel would not be welcome in her own. "Feed the belly beast!"

Stumbling a little as she gets up, Rachel pouts. "'Tana, I can't. I'm all…" she waves her hands around, as though it's an explanation. "You know. I can't eat here. And my house is far away." She pouts, and her stomach rumbles in complaint again. "Can't we sneak into your house? I can be super quiet. I can't drive home anyway. I'm not sober and I refuse to get behind the wheel whilst intoxicated." She's not really drunk, just a little tipsy, but with an empty stomach the alcohol is getting to her head, and in truth she doesn't want to leave Santana just yet, which seems to be what her girlfriend is implying. It felt like the night had only started, and Rachel didn't want it to stop yet.

For a few seconds, Santana actually considers Rachel's request as if it's a good idea. Or a possibility. And then the actual reality occurs to her, and she shakes her head quickly.

"No way. They'll eat YOU. No no no!"

Even as she protests she is giggling again, grabbing Rachel's hand and pulling her towards the fence. Climbing it now maybe be a problem, she is beginning to realize as she holds her hands for Rachel to step into.

"We can…walk or something."

Not the best idea, considering their attire and the neighborhood, but Rachel's right, driving isn't an awesome plan either.

Rachel continues to pout, but lets Santana lead her to the fence, and dutifully steps up on the girl's hands and manages to get over he fence, though with a lot less grace than previously. The moment Santana is over she latches onto the girl's hand, now feeling incredibly exposed without a barrier between them and the real world. "Can you at least get us some clothes? It's a little chilly, and I really don't want to walk around in a bikini…" She was lucky she remembered to slip on her sandals, honestly. "I can wait in my car, and you can get us clothing, then we can find some place to eat. Or something. But I didn't bring any money." This was, afterall, Santana's turn for the date. It was only fair.

Santana too has more of a struggle pulling herself up and over the fence and lands less than gracefully, reaching to steady herself on Rachel. Having left her dress in a pile in the neighbor's pool, as well as her shoes, she now shivers, gripping Rachel's hand just as tightly as she walks, looking about herself with sudden nervousness. If someone were to come up to them now…

Nodding in response to Rachel's comments, she walks the girl to the car and waits until she is inside with the door locked before taking off, actually sprinting, as much as she is able in her current state, to her house. She doesn't bother trying to be quiet as she pounds up the steps to her room, grabbing two more sundresses and a pair of flip flops, as well as her wallet, and slipping on one of them. She hears her mother calling out to her as she runs down the steps and out the door again but ignores her. The dress might not be an exact fit for Rachel in the bust or length or waist, but it will have to do.

She is relieved to see the girl still in the car as she comes up to her, panting slightly, and knocks on the window for her to open it.

"Room service!"

Smiling and getting out of the car, Rachel takes the sundress and puts it on, having dried her hair as best she could with the spare towel in her car. Her hair is up in a messy bun, and she's still unsure about walking about Santana's neighborhood at night, but at least the Latina is with her, and they're wearing clothing.

Granted, she looks a little silly in the dress she's wearing, what with how it doesn't really fit right around her chest, and is a little bit long. But it's clothing, and much better than just her bathing suit.

Taking her girlfriend's hand, leaning up a little to kiss her cheek, Rachel smiles. "Okay. Now feed me. Your princess needs proper nourishment in order to stay happy and adorable for you," she says, giggling again. She's never laughed so much in her life, she's sure. Some might say it's the alcohol, but Rachel is pretty sure it's just Santana.

Squeezing Rachel's hand, Santana smiles back at her, swinging it between them as they walk. She knows very well what could happen if someone were to see them walking together being physically affectionate in this area, but right now, she just can't bring herself to care.

"You talk like Rachel Berry, not a princess," she teases, bumping her with her shoulder as they walk. There is a small Chinese restaurant two blocks down that is open most hours of the night, and although Santana rarely lets herself eat there and it's a fairly shabby building, the food is decent and it should be available. Although with Rachel being vegetarian, she isn't sure what she can eat other than maybe rice or noodles.

Shrugging, bumping Santana's shoulder back, Rachel replies, "Rachel Berry is Santana Lopez's princess, so however I talk is exactly how a princess should." She sighed happily, humming quietly to herself as they walked. It was strange, how far they had come in only a couple of months or so. From blackmailing to dating, with so much drama and crying inbetween. It was hard to wrap her head around it, but moments like these, with just her and Santana enjoying themselves, helped Rachel feel a little more secure in the relationship. It wasn't always easy, and at times she was prone to feeling anxious, or not good enough, but Santana always managed to eventually quell those fears. Up head she saw where Santana was taking them, and smiled. "You read my mind. I've been craving Chinese for awhile now, honestly."

"Princesa Raquel…I like," Santana says, drawing out the words with more of an accent than needed as she continues to swing Rachel's hand. "Doth this establishment meet your refined palate, Princesa Raquel?"

As she lead Rachel into the restaurant, dropping her hand once inside, and slid across from her in one of the booths, seating themselves, it takes another few minutes for her to come down from her semi high of the fun she's been having to realize that Rachel has in fact roped her into going to yet another restaurant with her. Scanning the menu, she pretends she has some intention to order, though in her mind she already has her plan down. She'll tell the waiter she wants only water, because hopefully, Rachel is too drunk and happy, or at least too opposed to making a scene adn embarrassing herself, to contradict her in front of him.

And really, this had been so much fun she didn't want to openly protest or say anything and spoil it now.

Rachel curtsied. "Indeed is does, Lady Santana," she replied, exaggerating her accent as well. "Gracias, senorita." She didn't sound as good as Santana did when she spoke Spanish, but she knew that, even if her comprehension wasn't all that good, her accent was very commendable. She was, after all, an actress. When they sat down Rachel immediately looked over the menu, checking to see what she could have that was vegan. She opted to have a bowl of rice and some veggie stir fry. She'd just have to make sure they didn't use any kind of animal oil was all. Looking up to Santana, Rachel took her sandal off and let her toes skim across Santana's shin. "You know, you're really beautiful," she said, giggling. "You looked amazing in the water, all wet and glowing. You always look amazing. And you're my," she glanced around, leaning in and stage whispering with a silly grin, "my_girlfriend_. It's awesome." Maybe the alcohol was getting to her more than she had thought…

Santana smiled back at Rachel, jumping slightly when the girl's toes touched her. Rachel was grinning, looking so happy and relaxed and so very pretty because of it, and it was because of Santana. For once, Santana had made her happy.

"I know. I'm totally awesome," she stage whispered back, as beneath the table, she kicked off her own shoe, slowly inching her toe up the back of Rachel's calf. She smirked, watching Rachel's face, just as the waiter arrived. Quickly retracting her foot, Santana attempted to rearrange her features to a more neutral expression even as she fought the urge to burst out laughing.

As the waiter took their order, accepting Santana's "order" without comment, Santana deliberately began to walk her toes up Rachel's leg again. Maybe she wouldn't notice the lack of order if she distracted her.

Rachel was definitely distracted; both by her own need for food, and Santana's toes making their way slowly up and down her bare calf. She bit her lip, giggling at the feeling and squeezing her thighs together. "Stop that," she admonished in a hushed tone. "That is inappropriate for public behavior." Of course, her girlfriend was the kind of girl that smacked Rachel's ass in the halls and every so often would grope her chest when they slept in the same bed, so she probably shouldn't have been surprised. And, well, she wasn't. Not to mention she had started it. Smiling, trying to shift her leg away from Santana's foot, she asked, "Have you thought about what we can sing together?"

"What's appropriate then?" Santana murmured, even as she now deliberately rested her foot against Rachel's thigh, exerting faint pressure as she met the girl's eyes across the table, smirking. "Can I touch you here? Is my hand better?"

She persists when Rachel pulls away, even as the girl tries to distract her with the question. "We can sing "Baby got back" 'cause you so does…or we can sing "2 become 1" or "Oh my god" Peaches and Pink, or we can sing "Let's make love" or "Let me blow ya mind…"

Rachel can actually feel her face getting redder and redder with every song Santana suggests, the toes tickling her thigh not helping in the least. She crosses her legs, clearing her throat and taking a sip of the ice water the waiter gave them when they came to take the order. "I'm pretty sure those all involve some form of rap, which isn't my forte, and you are definitely not singing any song that talks about you 'gettin' sprung'. That doesn't even make sense for you." She shifted again, trying to subtly escape Santana's teasing foot, but having very little, if any luck. "I was hoping something more along the lines of…8th World Wonder, by Kimberly Locke. Or even Lego House, by Ed Sheeran. I admit, the majority of songs in my repertoire are for solos… But it wouldn't been too hard to find a song that complimented are combined talents."

"No idea what those even are…other than eighth world wonder, pretty sure that's you," Santana smiled, her foot now resting on top of Rachel's thigh and slowly inching over to the space between her legs. "And they're not all rap…one of them was a Spice Girls song, mi frikita."

Sliding her foot up and down, she laughed. "We could do "Bitch," that's totally my song. It's a love song!"

As Santana continued to tease and distract, she noticed that Rachel did not in fact notice her lack of an order. It was a good thing, in her mind; the night had been so fun it would be a shame to ruin it now over something she considered so lame.


	35. Chapter 35

Texts: Brittana

Santana: Did you go to coffee with Rachel like I asked you to?

Brittany: Yeah, about that… I didn't go. I don't know if Rachel showed up there or not, but I didn't go, so…

Santana: BRITTANY…you stood her up? You told me you were gonna be nice to her!

Brittany: Yeah and you said you were going to be nice to Tina.

Santana: I was nice to Tina!

Brittany: Calling people names isn't being nice, Santana!

Santana: I did not call her names! Well…I didn't call her as many names. I cut WAY back on names!

Brittany: It doesn't count.

Santana: It totally counts! It's the best I can do! You're being mean, Brittany…that makes me sad.

Brittany: I'm not being mean! I'm just not in this 100% until you are, don't you think that's fair? ..Don't be sad.

Santana: No I don't. I was totally trying and you didn't try at all. I can't help it, I am sad. I want you guys to be nice.

Brittany: How hard were you trying, though? Santana, don't be.

Santana: A little hard? Like, sort of hard…I am. I can't help it.

Brittany: Try harder, for me? And I'll text Rachel or something a reschedule, if it makes you happy.

Santana: Okay…I guess….She's not gonna want to though. She won't think you mean it.

(few hours later)

**Santana:** Brittany...what are you doing...

**Brittany:** Watching scary movies with Tina. Are you okay?

**Santana:** oh...never mind

**Santana:** I guess

**Brittany:** No, what's wrong?

**Santana:** you're doing your sleepover stuff. don't worry about it

**Brittany:** You can't do that. You can't be all sad and then tell me not to worry about it. It doesn't work that way.

**Santana:** but you're having fun and i'm trying not to be mean and change and stuff

**Brittany:** Santana, just tell me what's wrong. I don't want you to be sad.

**Santana:** I just feel bad.

**Santana:** like I keep seeing things in my room that abuela gave me and I keep thinking she would take them away, except that she won't touch anything of mine because I touched it too and it's like she thinks I infected it or something

**Santana:** she passed me on the way to the bathroom today and she does this thing where she cleans the whole bathroom every time she uses it even though she knows I don't use the bathroom out in the hall, I use the one that's in my own room, it's like she thinks i'll infect her there too

**Santana:** and I want to do things, idk

**Santana:** it's ok

**Brittany:** I'm sorry, Sanny.

**Brittany:** I wish I could make your abuela see how amazing of a person you are, and just because you like girls doesn't mean you're any less amazing and make her see that just because you touch something doesn't mean that you're infecting the house with "lesbian germs" or whatever it is she thinks.

**Brittany:** One day, though, your abuela will regret all the time she wasted cleaning bathrooms and not giving you hugs. But, until that day comes, she's really missing out. And you'll just have to ignore the mean things she says and does for another year and then you can move out and not worry about it ever again.

**Santana:** I don't want that though. I don't want to just move out and not worry again

**Santana:** I want her to love me again.

**Brittany:** I is going to love you again, I know that for a fact, but it'll probably take a little time. Until then, you've gotta be strong and if things ever get to be too much for you, you can always runaway to my house. Okay?

**Santana:** What if she doesn't?

**Brittany:** Then you have a million other people who can give you all the love that she doesn't give you.

**Santana:** No I don't. I just have you and Rachel.

**Brittany:** You have me, Rachel and both of our families, glee club, some of the Cheerios and most importantly me again.

**Santana:** yeah. I guess.

**Santana:** it's hard to feel that when i'm here. thanks...sorry

**Santana:** it just makes me feel really bad

**Brittany:** I know and if Tina weren't here I'd come give you a big hug.

**Santana:** yeah Rachel's busy too

**Brittany:** I'm really sorry, Sanny.

**S:** It's okay. I'll just...try to sleep or something

Phone call: Pezberry

**Santana:** So I just heard Britt stood you up. Look, I'm sorry, I don't want her to be like that with you. Why didn't you tell me?

**Rachel:** It's fine. I was a little late so I actually figured she thought I wasn't going to show and left... Apparently that wasn't the case. Still, don't worry about it. It's alright.

**S:** No it's not. I want you guys to get along. That's not okay, she promised she would be nice to you!

**Rachel:** Well technically we aren't NOT getting along... We just... don't speak or look at one another. I mean, I don't really expect her to like me at all, especially with the... whole... you know. Stuff between us now. And she wasn't exactly a fan of me to begin with so...

**Santana:** But she's supposed to be nice to you. Standing you up and not looking at you isn't being nice to you. She promised if I was nice to Tina she'd be nice to you and I was so damn nice to her and now she's pulling this on you?

**Rachel:** I truly do appreciate your intentions and efforts. I really, really do, Santana. Unfortunately, if Brittany wants nothing to do with me, that's probably how it's going to be. That doesn't mean you can be mean to Tina, however. Tina is a very nice girl and you should be not-mean to her whether Brittany is being rude to me or not. Besides, I only waited an hour before going home. It wasn't a big deal.

**Santana:** AN HOUR?! she made you stand there like a loser for an HOUR?!

**Santana:** I don't want to be nice to Tina if I don't have to be. She wears stupid freaky clothes and she cries too much. And I can tell she doesn't like me, she thinks she's better or something but she won't even come out and say it outright. But...are you serious, an hour?

**Rachel:** Sweetie, it's fine! I had a coffee and people-watched. Everything was fine.

**Rachel:** Santana, I wear 'freaky' clothes and cry a lot, too. And yes, I understand the bias, but my point is that if you got to know Tina a little more I think you'd be good friends. From the few times we've talked, I think you'd enjoy her sense of humor. And she doesn't think she's better than you. She just doesn't know you. It's a two way street that will only get better with communication and an open mind.

**S:** But you were sitting there ALONE with your coffee and people watching and no one but a total loser does that. No one ever sits alone like that by choice, then everyone thinks you have no friends and no one likes you!

**S:** No your clothes are dorky, hers look like she's gonna snap and stab someone with eyeliner. She does think that. I can hear it in her voice when she talks to me, if she had a spine she would call me a stupid bitch or whore and be done with it. She doesn't have a sense of humor either, all she does is whine or complain without actually doing anything to change things most of the time. I don't know why Brittany likes her so much. You know she actually let her come over and spend the night? Do you know how many people spend the night with Brittany? Me, that's who. That's it. What's so special about Tina?

**Rachel:** I'm not going to force you to be friends with Tina, but I do expect you to learn to control Snix around her. And not the physically violent Snix. The 'lash out and call people terribly cruel names' part of Snix. I understand that nicknames are your thing, and that's fine. But you can have an attitude without being cruel.

**Rachel:** Also... I'm positive that the sleepovers Tina and Brittany are having are... very different from the sleepovers you and Britt had... Why does it matter anyway? What's wrong with Brittany having other friends. She's always had a lot of friends. The Glee Club loves her more often that they don't, the cheerleaders aren't outwardly ruthless to her, etc. Brittany has never not had friends, both in her bed and just platonicly.

**Santana:** You want me to do that, you're gonna have to spend a lot more time with your mouth attached to mine because me and not calling names? Kinda doesn't last long

**S:** That's not true. People were horrible to her when we were kids. They called her names and made fun of her all the time, they called her retard and dumb blonde and everything else. It wasn't until she grew boobs and started making out with everyone in middle school and joined JV cheerleading that people started being nicer to her. That and the fact that I started beating the hell out of them. I was her friend first. Me. I'm her best friend.

**Rachel:** Brittany's luck to have had you, Santana. She knows that, and I doubt you'll not mean the world to her as a best friend, just like you'll always have her no matter what. I understand what that sort of life is like, it's good that you were there to defend her.

**S:** Yeah, I mean...TINA wasn't the one fighting people in the third grade for her. I don't know why she's suddenly so into TINA.

**Rachel:** There's nothing wrong with new friends, Santana. And as I said, there's certainly nothing with Tina. I give Tina credit for being brave enough to be who she is despite what others think. We're actually rather similar in that regard.

**S:** (silent, mutters something unintelligible)

**Rachel:** Santana, please speak up. I think my phone is acting up. What did you say? [oblivious to Santana purposefully muttering]

**S:** Nothing.

**Rachel:** Santana.

**S:** that's my name

**Rachel:** If you're just going to give me attitude I'm hanging up.

**Santana: K bye.**

**Facebook message: Santina**

**Santana:** sup lucy lieww

**Tina:** The name's Tina. and you totally spelled that wrong. What can I do for you Santana?

**Santana:** nope spelled it exactly how i wanted actually

**Santana:** i'm supposed to be nice to you. so this is me. being nice. as much as it hurts

**Tina:** Uh sure. You really don't have to do this. I mean your a cheerleader Im on the Brainiacs and the student council. It doesn't make since for you to be nice to me. So just forget it. I won't say anything to Britt, alright

**Santana:** she already knows so you must've said SOMETHING, lucy loose lips. and if britt wants me to play nice then i'll suck up until your skin is coated with saliva. only not literally cuz you're totally not my type

Tina: ...This is you being nice, right? That's disgusting. For some reason I feel like you are pissed at me, even though you are friends have pretty much tortured me for the last year and a half.

**S:** Yeah pretty much me being nice, yeah. we did not TORTURE you. it's not like we ever HURT you

**S:** I don't hit girls. except Quinn.

**T:** Got it. Well if this is nice, I can know what to expect

**Tina:** I hate to break it to you but get a slushy thrown in your face, yeah that's pretty painful. It doesn't matter. I will report your gallant effort to be nice to me. I'm really not sure what's supposed to happen now.

**Santana:** it's not that bad.. okay it fucking sucks, it stains like hell and makes you cold all day. but i didn't know it was that bad until I actually got one thrown on me..i guess...sorry or whatever

**Santana:** uh...we pretend to be bestest new buddies?

**Tina:** Did you just apologize to me? That was really weird. I'm not sure I know how to react to that... I'm pretty boss at pretending, so sounds good

**Santana:** Yes? I guess? Sort of. Don't call up a parade or anything

**Santana:** ok good. we lie our asses off then revert to default whenever possible then

**Tina:** That works. I don't want Brittany upset and neither do you so this is how we will accomplish that

**Santana:** awesome. that's the plan then

**Tina:** So does this mean youre going to start calling me Tina?

**Santana:** you're pushing it, Cheechong... sometimes, okay? maybe

**Tina:** What if I called you things like chiquita banana or something as equally racist? How would you feel

**Tina:** i guess thats an improvement at least

**Santana:** I would go Lima Heights on your ass and then you'd have a hard time feeling yourself

**Santana:** fine, point made. whatever.

**Tina:** Well that was completely unnecessary. You havevsome serious anger issues.

**Santana:** I do not. I'm sick of people talking shit about latinas.

**Tina:** I wasnt speaking on Latin woman in general just you in general. And it was just an observation, relax , though you might want to look into that or something. I dont know. Alright I'm done, haha

**Santana:** pushing real hard against my limit...TINA

**Tina:** I wonder how much more would actually get you past that limit? Thanks for the Tina by the way... You are a lot more fun than I realized before.

**Santana:** pushing to the point something's about to break and it just might be your neck. or at least the lame shoelaces of your ridiculous shoes

**Tina:** Ridiculous? My shoes are awesome

**Santana:** Bellatrix Lestrange and Edward Scissorhands are duking it out over who should rip you open to get them on their feet

**Tina:** I happen to love both of them so you aren't hurting my feelings

**Santana:** figures. they both have serious need of a salon, ghost face syndrome, and black black more black. Also they can kill you by shaking your hand

**88**

There was always more than a little stress in Santana's life, from as far back as she could recall.

Being an only child in the Lopez household, between her successful, traditionally Hispanic doctor father, her more modern and easygoing but still high-standard-setting mother, and her extremely strict and stern abuela had come with pressure from the time she was a small child, and there had only been further expectations from multiple directions as Santana aged. She had been expected to be smart and pretty not just because she naturally was, but because of the image it would uphold for her family to reflect back upon them. Her parents had never had the smoothest of relationships, and as far back as she could remember their times together had been characterized by arguments or by long absences from her busy father, which often drew her mother's complaints or criticisms. Cheerleading had added an entirely new challenge and stress and further inflamed already present concerns about weight and appearance, image and reputation, and always inside her had been the quiet, dark knowledge she could not fully bring herself to think of, let alone admit, of her difference from others. Of the understanding that she was not the powerful, uncaring, sexually voracious maneater that she wanted everyone to see her as. That in fact, what Santana Lopez really was, at her core, was a girl who didn't like herself, much more strongly than others disliked her. That she was scared and insecure, that the opinion of others not only mattered, but defined her. And most horribly of all, that she didn't even like or feel attracted to a single one of the boys she threw herself towards…that all her attention, all her focus and feelings, were actually directed at girls.

That was what she knew, what others could never find out. And all of this was changing, slowly, one piece at a time. But it seemed that removing one source of stress only made room for three others, and the worst of it now was not at school but rather in her own home.

And to Santana, it was pretty much entirely her own fault.

Okay, maybe it wasn't her fault, per se. She knew she hadn't chosen to be gay, the same way she knew she hadn't chosen to be left-handed or Hispanic. But all the drama going on all around her was resulting because of it, and it was hard not to feel guilty or depressed over it when it affected her entire family and their relationships with each other, not just her.

Of course, not much had changed with her father. Papi still worked late and often and barely interacted with anyone, though Santana suspected this was now due to choice more than circumstances. From what little he was around, it seemed clear to her that he was intent on playing Switzerland, not going against his mother, her abuela, and her campaign against Santana, but also not agreeing with her where Santana or her mother, Maribel, would hear. On the other hand, Maribel Lopez was becoming increasingly vocal in her frustration with and anger towards Alma, and more and more often their differences in opinion about Santana was becoming explosive in nature.

Santana could appreciate that her mother was defending her, that she accepted her and was angry for her sake, but she just wished sometimes that her mother would back off and leave things be, if only to have some semblance of peace in the house. Yet every time Santana took off or barricaded herself in her room to try to avoid it, that would become another argument between her mother and abuela, as her mami accused her abuela of driving her off. It seemed she couldn't win, and the more she tried to avoid the situation and let things go, in hopes that it would die down on its own, the less this actually seemed to happen. In fact, it only seemed to encourage her abuela to be more aggressive.

The notes from the Bible and pamphlets against homosexuality were still regular in coming, often inserted in Santana's schoolbooks, backpack, or other belongings. Santana had even seen one that was an advertisement promoting a whack job counselor's ability to "reprogram" homosexuals into being heterosexual. Her abuela continued to openly disinfect areas she had witnessed Santana touch, although she knew this was the fastest way to send Maribel flying into a rage. Often Santana heard her turn up religious music loud enough for her to hear or turn the television to a religious station pointedly, and she continued to refuse to sit at the same table with her during meals or to eat after Santana had already done so. And so far, she had not spoken to Santana herself. Not one word.

If the goal was for her abuela to hurt her, she was doing an excellent job of it. Santana had known all her life of her abuela's religious convictions, having been dragged to church and through First Communion, all the way through confirmation, before she naturally began to slide away from a religion she had never really been interested in, in the first place, in her later teens. She knew even more fully Alma's own personal convictions of what a persona and a woman should be, having had it drilled into her all her life from childhood on.

Never let anyone see you cry, or you have handed them the key to your soul and thrown away any respect they might have had for you in one weak moment. Women must be strong or they will be nothing but doormats that men wipe their feet on or meat they chew up and spit out. Your place among others is everything and you should never let anyone take it from you, constantly be on your guard to earn it and keep it. Never flinch from others' jealousy or names against you; thrive on it and give back worse than what you get. Never damage the family name and never, ever, let anyone think any less of you because it happens to be a Hispanic one.

Those were the lessons of Santana's childhood, the values she had deeply taken to heart. Above all things her abuela had emphasized stoicism mingled with near cruelty, telling her to strike out at others and assign them their place before they could hit out at her and snatch hers away from her. And so Santana had.

One time and only one time could she remember coming home as a child, crying because some of the other children had told her they didn't want to be her friend anymore. She had never forgotten the look in her abuela's eyes of such disgust, the way she had shook her head and grabbed Santana's face in her hand, forcing her to look up at her as she told her to never again let them put her in a position where they could feel even capable of saying such a thing, let alone where they could make her hurt for it.

"You must be in control, Santana Veronica," she had insisted. "You control them, do not allow them to control you or your emotions. Do not let them make you feel such emotions. You are in control and do not forget it."

And Santana hadn't. From that point onward she had made it her goal to make sure no one could ever reject her, that she would instead make them strive to be accepted by her. She would reject them before they could reject her, make them hate her on purpose so they would not choose to hate her on their own.

Rachel said there was a different way, a better way. And she was beginning to think that maybe she was right…because even if she did this, she was still striving for approval. Her mother's as her sassy, smart, together daughter. Her father's as his tomboy who transitioned into a feminine young woman all the boys wanted and all the girls wanted to be. The other kids, as someone they hated and feared, but still wanted to win the approval of. And her abuela's, as everything she had instilled in her from childhood on. They might set the bar high, but Santana had always set hers higher. And she was her abuela's granddaughter, through and through.

What she couldn't tell her abuela was that being the person she had wanted her to be, the person she had raised her to be, hurt.

Santana hated who she was, who she was expected to be. She hated that every day, for the past several years, every move she made was carefully planned and plotted and analyzed until she felt she was living an imitation of a life rather than just living. She hated that she never felt free to entirely be herself, that truly, she would feel ashamed to be. But most of all, Santana hated knowing, deep down, that everyone else hated her too.

Most of them would not be brave enough to say it, of course. Most would cowtow to her and do as she demanded, or even mask their hatred under a show of admiration or even under genuine fear. But she was not respected…not really. She was not liked, no matter how someone might act to her face, and she knew this. And as much as she disliked the majority of the school body, as much as she told herself this was exactly how she wanted things, it hurt.

Most of them were losers, she told herself. Who cared what they thought? But beneath it all, she was beginning to become aware that the majority of this feeling was not so much genuine distaste for them, as fear of their potential rejection. What if she WAS nice to people? What if she really did listen and let herself learn about them and care about them? What if she started to like them, and they didn't like her back? What if she was nice to them, and they used it as an opportunity to hurt her?

She knew she could verbally trash anyone into submission. She knew she could fight like a grown man, if she was mad enough, maybe even better than some men. But that didn't mean that all the time she was putting someone in their place or slapping them down, that she wasn't hurting inside like they were doing the same back to her. It did.

So it was because of this, and because of the instructions of her abuela, that Santana made it her mission to strike out at others first, making sure they would dislike her, fear her, even hate her, before they could decide to do so on their own, to reject them before they could reject her. It hurt a lot less to be able to think that the reason they didn't like her was because she MADE them not like her, rather than that they just didn't like her because of who she was.

But even that method didn't make her desire to be liked, appreciated, even loved entirely go away, or even diminish at all. Santana wanted this, not just from the other kids, but from her parents, and especially from Alma Lopez. To earn the approval of her abuela would mean so much to her, really more than it would anyone else's, because it wasn't something that was easy at all. Earning the love of Alma Lopez was a full time job, and Santana worked at it, all her life, knowing that even when she secured it, she would always have to keep working to make sure it stayed.

She had done it, for a while. Her abuela kept pictures of her on the fridge and in her wallet, and was always proud to show off the ones of Santana in her cheerleading uniform to her friends from church. That to Santana was how she had known she was loved. But just last week she had found the pictures in the trash can, right on top where anyone could see, and this even more than her silent treatment was a clear statement that any love for her was gone. She no longer claimed her not only face to face, but to the world. And that for Santana was pain that she could never explain with words, that no one could ever really understand.

She could explain it to Brittany all day and Brittany might listen and tell her she was sorry, but she would never understand. Sure, she had been picked on in middle school and elementary school, before Santana and Snix had put a stop to it for good, but now everyone liked her even if they didn't really respect her, and her family clearly loved her. The Pierce family was awesome, so Brittany could never get what it was like to feel hate from them. Rachel might understand being targeted as a source of hatred at school, and her biological mother had rejected her, in a sense, but her dads cherished her. She would never understand what it was like to be treated that way, with hatred rather than just dismissal, by someone who was supposed to love her and once had. Quinn, maybe, with everything that had gone on with her father. But even Quinn didn't have the same situation; even Quinn no longer lived in the same house with her father, forced to deal with him every single day.

It was difficult in a way Santana could never explain to anyone, and made it that much harder to do like Rachel wanted, to try to change her attitude and improve her behavior towards others. How easy was that when every day, someone who had taught her the exact opposite continued to treat her as she did?

The final straw came the evening after the with arguments with Rachel and Brittany over texts. It had already been a difficulty day, between grueling Cheerios, where she had avoided looking at or interacting with Brittany even to the detriment of one of the routines until Sue screamed at them both, embarrassing the hell out of Santana, and she still had yet to really talk to or make up with her. Every time she saw Tina it was difficult to keep from either bursting into tears or unleashing Snix on her, and Glee rehearsals had been no less hard as a result. Santana had come home already tired and vaguely upset, so when she walked into her bedroom, intending to just chill out with some music and bad Netflix shows, she had had no patience or tolerance, and very little understanding at first, for what she realized when she opened the door.

The majority of the posters were gone off the walls. The stack of Cosmopolitan, Glamour, and Vogue magazines she had had stacked right beside her bed were mysteriously vanished, and the shelf holding her DVDs looked suspiciously and noticeably depleted. As Santana's head swiveled, wondering what the hell had happened, and why her posters of rock boy bands remained while the others were missing, she could not at first connect the dots, until she saw the note on her nightstand. Snatching it up, she read her abuela's precise writing, listing several Biblical scriptures…and that was when it clicked in her head. Each one was a quote about lust or sexual immorality. It was then that Santana understood- every poster missing had had an attractive female on it. Every magazine had had models and actresses, and each missing movie, it seemed, was one with an attractive female on its cover.

Her abuela had apparently attempted to remove her room of all visible sources of possible lust.

For a few moments Santana froze, her fingernails tearing holes into the note's paper as she fought back hot tears. But soon embarrassment and shame gave way to anger. How dare she touch her things? How dare she go into her room and invade her privacy, the one safe place she had in this entire house, when she wouldn't allow Santana to remain in the same room with her, let alone go into hers? How dare she take away her things, how dare she think she had that right?

This was not going to happen again. This was NEVER going to happen again, and she would make sure of that, right now. Without further thought, Santana threw open the door of her room, still grasping the note in her hand as she stormed down the hallway to her abuela's closed bedroom door. She didn't bother to knock-she doubted Alma had, after all. She just threw open the door and held the note up for her to see, barely noticing her abuela's cold stare and set jaw as she spoke to her for the first time in nearly two months.

"This is my bedroom, Santana, and you are not invited in. I suggest you remove yourself from it at once."

"Kind of like you went into mine without me inviting you in?" Santana leveled, her voice barely under control. She didn't move from the doorway, dropping the note at her feet and crossing her arms over her chest. She was aware of her heart racing against her forearm but ignored it, staring her abuela in the eye. "Kind of like how you removed my things from my room at once? Where did you put them, Abuela? They aren't yours and you had no right to take them. Where did you put them?"

"In the garbage where they belong," was her cold reply, and she too looked back at Santana, her gaze unwavering. "Where they can reside with other filth and pollution rather than taking up access in your thoughts and soul."

"You can't do that, Abuela!" Santana burst out with, barely restraining herself from coming forward towards her or at least stomping her foot. "You have no right to do that!"

"I can and I will and I did," was the woman's flat reply, as her lips drew into a thin line, and she inhaled sharply through her nose. "I have every right, Santana Veronica. You will not be troubled to scour your own sorry soul and your poor excuse of parents are certainly failing you in that regard, so the duty falls on me. I raised you from the time you were a child, and I brought you up right. I certainly did not raise you to be what you are now and I will not accept it for as long as I am still breathing and able to take a stand up against it."

"No, Abuela," Santana shook her head, biting down hard on the inside of her cheeks before she could continue. "No, you raised me to be a strong woman who stands up for herself and knows her own mind. And that's what I'm doing now…even if it's against you."

When her abuela said nothing, her expression unchanging, Santana took another breath, softening her tone. "I want you to stop this, Abuela. I'm not going to change who I am and who I love. I can't change that, and I won't try to anymore. Not even for you. I love you…I know we don't say that but…but I do. I've loved you all my life and I…I wanted to be like you and have you…have you love me…"

Here she had to stop, swallowing hard, and regain control of her voice. This was hard, so very hard, to say what had never before been said, knowing all the while that it was almost definitely falling on uncaring ears. But it had to be said, for her own sake more than anything, and she pushed on.

"What you're doing now…I know you don't understand, and…maybe you don't care…but it hurts. It…Abuela, it really hurts, and I wish you would stop and…just try to love me even if you don't accept me. Please."

It seemed an eternity before her abuela spoke, but even before the words came, Santana's heart sank, seeing the rejection in her eyes.

"I will not accept what is unacceptable, Santana. And I will not love what it determined to be unnatural and unholy. The Bible is very clear on the matter of what is approved of by God, and I will not go against his word."

"I remember the Bible too, Abuela," Santana shot back, a stirring of anger renewing itself in her heart, and she lifted her chin then, firming her voice and squaring her shoulders. "I was there with you every Sunday, all those years, and I know it. I remember it. That was important to you, remember, that I know the Bible? But maybe you've forgotten. Here are some things I remember. I remember that Jesus said judge lest you not be judged, that if you judge others, the same measure that you judge them will be judged against you. I remember it said forgive and you'll be forgiven, and if you don't forgive others then your father in heaven won't forgive your sins either. Remember that, Abuela? I do."

Her abuela opened her mouth, but Santana was on a roll now, not about to let her interrupt.

"I remember the Bible saying to do unto others as you would have them do unto you. I remember the Bible saying to love your neighbor as you love yourself. I remember the Bible saying that love is patient and love is kind and it doesn't boast and it isn't proud or rude or self-serving and especially I remember it saying it KEEPS NO RECORD OF WRONGS. You know, I remember a lot of other crazy things about the Bible, like how you should stone women who aren't virgins when they get married. You have any stones laying around, Abuela, because if that's the case and you follow the Bible, you better stone me right now or God is gonna be hella pissed at you for not following his sacred word. I remember there being something about not eating lobster, I guess you better burn down Red Lobster then, huh? What about women not cutting their hair or wearing pants, that's an abomination, Abuela, and you know, your hair looks pretty short and your pants look pretty pants-like to me! What about the part where it says women shouldn't wear jewelry or "outward adornment," is that a wedding ring on your finger and earrings in your ears? What about the part about husbands beating their wives with a switch that's a certain size and how slaves should obey their masters and husbands can't sleep with their wives while they're on the rag, what about where Noah slept with his own daughters, should me and Papi get it on since that's not as sinful apparently as me and Rachel?"

"SANTANA LOPEZ, you shut your blasphemous mouth and do not abuse the word of God!" her grandmother fairly shouted, beginning to get to her feet, but Santana was having none of it, and she stood her ground without flinching.

"That is the word of God, right out of the Bible. All I did was lay it out for you. I know the Bible too, Abuela. I learned it from you and I learned it well. And you know what else it says? That you're in danger of hell if you call someone a fool, let alone hate them. Abuela, I'm pretty sure that's what you raised me to do all my life to other people…I seem to remember another part in there about how you shouldn't sin against your children or cause them to sin, because it's better to drown yourself at sea than that. Wasn't there another part about not provoking and discouraging your children too? Maybe God has a problem with you right now, Abuela, way more than he has a problem with me."

"Santana Lopez-"

"Maybe I'm not a child anymore," Santana spoke over her, determined to drive this point home. "But I was once, Abuela. And you steered me into being the person I am today. Good, bad, both, I don't even know anymore. But it was you. And if you have a problem with who I am…maybe that's something you need to think about. Maybe you need to have a talk with God."

She could hear her abuela hissing her name, but she didn't stay to hear anything further. Turning and shutting the door behind her, she went to her room, locking the door. Finally letting herself go, in the relative safety of this space, she sank down onto her bed, head in her hands, and waited for the sudden shaking sweeping through her body to subside. When she had mostly managed to stop shuddering and the intense nausea in her stomach had slightly eased, she ran a hand through her hair, swallowing, and reached for the phone. Taking this out on Tina will make her feel better...


	36. Chapter 36

**Public Facebook wall messages**

**Santana:** yeah right you're not into Brittany, you're so obvious

**Tina:** I already told you multiple times now she's my do you even care?

**Santana:** because. brittany is hot and she deserves arm candy that makes her look even hotter and you? totally not getting the job done

**Santana:** plus one look at your idea of a sexy outfit tells me you're kinda a freak in bed and not in the good way

**Tina:** I knew it. I knew the real evil you would show up again. Leave me alone Santana. You on't know what you're talking about

**Santana:** I know you wanna throw her down and do the nasty with her and i know that's just wrong to even contemplate because one hot girl and you together? a Cheerio and a freak? it could be an explosion and not the firework kind, more like an atomic bomb

**Tina:** I don't want to do anything. I am not trying to be anything but Brittany's friend. Don't get mad at me because you can't have your cake and eat it too

**Tina:** Leave me alone I'm serious

**Santana:** I don't eat cake, talk about fat and calories

**Santana:** that's totally a yes isn't it

**Tina:** You are just really not getting it. We didn't.. nothing happened! I told you we are friends she isn't interested in me at all so you can stop there is no need to do this

**Santana:** whatever you say, sucks-in-bed

**Tina:** I've never done anything in anyone's bed thank you very much. We all can't be lucky enough to sleep with half the students at McKinley. If you picked Rachel, remember that was your choice I ha nothing to do with any of this so just knock it off

**Santana:** knock off, kinda like every purse you own?

**Tina:** is that supposed to be insulting? Do I look like a person who cares about name brands? Ooo good one.

**Santana:** apparently what wasn't a good one was you in bed with Brittany, SNAP

**Tina:** Again I never slept with Brittany... and again your insults fall short. I think you're loosing it. I think you are getting to desperate to hurt my feelings. Which is pretty sad that you are devoting time to hurting me, when you claim I'm such a loser, not worth your time

**Santana:** I'm not devoting time to you, I can insult while simultaneously driving, applying makeup, and singing. you ain't making me lose a second, just making things a little more interesting

**TIna:** Still taking time even if you are doing other things at the same time. I'm not a threat to you when it comes to Brittany. I know who I am and I know who she is. I don't need you constantly throwing it in my face. Worry about your own life and stay out of mine

**Santana:** presumptuous much? i'm not worried, asian fixation. britt would never want you anyway**Tina:** Not so much me being presumptuous but you being really very transparent. You think I don't know that?

**Tina:** Don't you have a some souls to capture, Satan. Why are you continuing this?

**Santana:** have to have something started to continue it, this is way over

Briefly sated, the sharp pain in her chest dulling to an ache after this exchange, Santana curls up on her bed, intending to sleep. But it isn't an hour later before her phone lights up with a text from Rachel.

**Rachel:** I'll just get straight to the point; why are you bullying Tina? And also I swear that if you take your anger out on her in any way, shape, or form, due this conversation you can forget about any photos or making out or anything of that nature for a good long while, Santana Lopez.

**Santana:** I'm not bullying her! I've been NICE to her... well I was mostly anyway. for a while

**Rachel:** Santana...

**Santana:** it's not BULLYING, jeez. i don't hit her or anything lame like that...jeez, a couple of wall posts that weren't super sweet and you act like it's the end of the world

**Santana:** i was trying for a while, i just sort of stopped for a while

**Rachel:** Words hurt too, Santana... Sometimes they hurt the most. Not to mention I'm pretty sure she's still getting slushied.

**Rachel:** I'm not asking you to be a saint, or even nice. I'm asking you to be civil to the rest of the Glee club. They're our teammates and family, and Tina has never done anything to you to deserve 'Snix'.

**Santana:** she's all up on people, it's annoying

**Santana:** she wasn't hurt, she didn't care

**Rachel:** You know, you used to say and think those exact same things about me.

**Santana:** well she doesn't. She said so.

**Rachel:** Of course she did. Why would she ever show you any weakness? Again, I say and do the same thing all the time, especially when you and Quinn were actively bullying me. And sure, most days it just rolled off my back. But other days it just hurt. A lot.

**Santana:** I don't like her. Anyway she said I'm evil so it's not like she's totally innocent

**Rachel:** Then ignore her, Santana. Please? I don't know why you suddenly feel the need to target her, but I know you're better than that. You're a good person, Santana. Even if you don't let anyone see it most of the time.

**Santana:** you can't ignore someone who's ALL OVER THE PLACE

**Santana:** dammit whatever. I'll not talk to her or whatever, fine

**Rachel:** Stop. You don't have to say a word to her if you don't want, that's the point of ignoring someone. I won't even tell you to apologize because I know you won't mean it. The whole reason I bring this is up is because you know how I feel about this, and it's upsetting to know that you still attack people for no reason, despite that knowledge.

**Santana:** I have a reason...I don't like her

**Santana:** but I'll stop, okay? If you get all upset over it I'll stop

**Santana:** even if it sucks

**Rachel:** Thank you, Santana. I appreciate that a lot.

**Rachel:** What is your reason, though? For going after her in the first place.

**Santana:** Because. I don't like her. She's it's hard to be nice all the time. And flashes her shit all around.

**Rachel:** Um... I really can't see Tina being that sexual or flirting with you... She knows you're taken, for one, and unless all this meanness is actually sexual tension I'm quite sure she has zero interest in you and vice-versa?

**Santana:** ...she isn't interested in me!

**Santana:** god i hope not anyway

**Santana:** no way am i into her either

**Santana:** you're just gonna get mad so let's just drop it

**Rachel:** It's about Brittany isn't it? You only use that excuse if it's something that has to do with Brittany.

**Santana:** have you ever thought about dying your hair? you'd look awesome with red streak

**Rachel:** Santana, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice.

**Santana:** what are you talking about?

**Rachel:** The hard way it is then.

**Santana:** no, really, what are you talking about? what hard way?

**Rachel:** [ignores]

**S:** What are you talking about?

**S:** is THIS what you're talking about? you're ignoring me?

**S:** WHY?

**Rachel:** [ignores]

**S:** Okay this is stupid! I'll ignore you too then. Fine, IGNORE

**S:** (five minutes later) Just stop it already, why do you even care?**  
Rachel:** Because you clearly are bothered by something and you don't trust me enough to just be honest about it.

**Santana:** you always get mad at me!

**Rachel:** I might get upset, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't communicate with because I might get angry or upset doesn't mean I don't love you and want to help...

**Santana:** but we said we weren't gonna talk about it

**Rachel:** I don't recall ever agreeing to that.

**S:** why do you want to know everything about everything?

**Rachel:** Why do you hide everything about everything from me?

**Santana:** I don't. just the stuff that will make you mad and just SOMETIMES

**Rachel:** ...Yeah... Alright... I'll talk to you later, Santana...

**Santana:** If I tell you everything all the time you'd never talk to me, ever! See! You don't even when I don't tell you!

**Rachel:** Honesty and trust are EVERYTHING to me, Santana. Absolutely everything. You don't trust me, and sometimes you aren't honest with me. So yes. That upsets it. It upsets me more than anything you could say about Brittany ever could.

**Santana:** I do trust you. I just don't like to make you mad at me but obviously it never works... you REALLY want me to say?

**Rachel:** Santana, we periodically get mad at each other on a regular basis. It's part of our yes. I do.

**Santana:** well i'm sick of people always mad at me

**Santana:** ok fine then. I don't like tina bc she's all of a sudden all over brittany like they're best friends and brittany lets her tutor her and brittany sings with her and she has her spend the night and when i texted brittany the other night and i really needed her she had tina over so she couldn't come and she tells her how awesome she is and she talks about eating pizza and hugging her and she wants me to be nice to tina and wasn't nice to you because she didn't think i was nice enough to tina. she's totally replacing me and making brittany happy and it's not fair. okay? happy now? I bet not. I bet you're pissed.

**Rachel:** I'm not 'pissed', Santana. But I do think you should sit down and have an actual conversation with Brittany about this. Honestly, there's no way she'd ever replace you at all. And Tina would never try. That's almost like saying that you replaced Brittany with me, and you know that isn't the case. Even though Brittany may or may not feel otherwise... Which only serves to strengthen my point that you two need to talk about this openly.

**Santana:** But she already is. She does all this stuff with Tina and not with me

**Rachel:** Santana... you're usually with me... You know that, right...?

**Santana:** not this week...and she doesn't even ask... and then it's all over tumblr

**Rachel:** Talk to her, Santana. Nothing will get better if you don't say anything about it.

**Santana:** It's not gonna matter. I shouldn't have to talk to her

**Rachel:** You know, that still doesn't translate to you having the right to bring Tina into this like you are. If you want to be frustrated with someone, be frustrated with the person actually hurting you...

**Rachel:** That said, if you won't talk to her, then I don't know what else to tel you. Thank you for being honest with me, though.

**Santana:** it's Tina hurting me because she's doing it. Is Brittany being nice to you?**  
****Rachel:** I highly doubt Tina has any idea of what's going on.

**Rachel:** We agreed to meet for lunch. Which, that reminds me, I am indeed supposed to inform you that she is being 'super nice and considerate' to me.

**Santana:** she knows exactly what's going on. she said as much. she said i'm trying to have my cake and eat it too which is NOT TRUE

**Santana:** oh. um, good, I guess? I take it that's a direct quote

**Rachel:** Yes, it is. And, well. It's something. I wish she was being nice because she wanted to and not because you're making her, but I suppose I shouldn't be picky. The list of people that are actively nice to me is short enough as is. No use making it shorter with details.

**Santana:** like you're making me be nice to tina, like that?

**Rachel:** I'm not making you do anything, Santana. I'm asking you to not bully her and to just ignore her. Would I like you to at least be civil with her? Yes. But There's no point in asking that of you when I know you don't care nor will it be sincere. Much like why I didn't ask you to apologize. That's something you have to honestly want to do. And if you don't, I can't, and won't, force it out of you. That's not fair to me, you, nor Tina.

**Santana:** oh...whatever then...you're mad though right?

**Rachel:** No. I already told you I wasn't mad.

**S:** Oh...okay.

**Rachel:** ...Um... Do you want me to be mad?

**Santana:** no, why would I? I just sort of can't believe you're not I guess

**Rachel:** Brittany's an important part of your life. While I've no experience to properly empathize with the feeling of losing your best friend, as I'd also be losing my girlfriend at the same time which is different, I imagine it's a terrible feeling. But honestly, I don't think you're losing her. You both are just getting your wires crossed a , I wasn't lying when I said that I trust you. And you've proven time and time again that you love me, and are in love with me.

**Santana:** I think I am though. Losing her... she wouldn't ask me over when I really really needed her to...and it was because of Tina.

**Rachel:** Did you tell her you needed her?

**Santana:** yes...she said tina was over so she couldn't see me.

**Santana:** she picked her over me

**Rachel:** I'm sorry... That's not Tina's fault, for the record, but I'm sorry Brittany did that to you.

**Santana:** i could have done stuff and she still picked her

**Santana:** she likes her better now, or she's gonna soon

**Rachel:** Then... Maybe you two should spend more time together. I mean, you haven't really hung out since... well... Since we started dating. And I'm pretty sure that's my fault. I don't want you to lose your best friend. And I don't think you should give up.

**Santana:** i guess. I mean we have some. i guess we need to more though

**Rachel:** Alright... well... You should get a hold of her soon then. Maybe plan a sleepover, or something. I'll just make plans with my fathers to keep myself occupied.

**Santana:** okay...Rachel...thanks

**Rachel:** For what?

**Santana:** not bursting into tears and telling me I shouldn't care what Brittany does or something, Idk

**Rachel:** While I am a naturally dramatic person, you have enough things to deal with as is. You don't need your girlfriend causing you problems as well.

**Santana:** ok are you giving me the "you gotta tell me stuff but I won't tell you stuff" speech now?

**Rachel:** Um... What?

**Santana:** you don't really tell me a lot about what's going on in your life, you know

**Rachel:** What? Of course I do. I always make sure you know my exact schedule at all times.

**Santana:** Rachel, don't play clueless, I get that you're oblivious to a lot but it's usually like, sex and social cues. You know what I mean. You never tell me about your ISSUES unless it happens to be "you hurt my feelings Santana Lopez"

**Rachel:** I am not there's nothing to be said. Everything is fine.

**Santana:** Okay, not oblivious. Does "blind to neon flashing lights spelling out the obvious" when it comes to sex and social cues work better?

**Santana:** Well you just said a second ago I didn't need you adding to my problems so that implies you have a problem to be added

**Rachel:** I am perfectly educated on the both subject matters, thank you very much. and I simply meant that you shouldn't have to worry about me when you already have a lot on your plate. It was a generalized statement.

**Santana:** Rach, the fact that you just said you're "perfectly educated" on the subject matter of social cues is a pretty huge indicator that you're totally not, right there.

**Santana:** Rachel Berry. You're my girlfriend. Worry is a given. it doesn't matter if my plate is the size of Africa and containing all the crappy American food the starving masses don't have, you and your issues are gonna be on it.

**Rachel:** :( I'm not sure how you managed to be both incredibly insulting and sweet at the same time, but you did. I'm fine, though, Santana. Really. I mean, when have I ever not been obvious about how I feel about something? Everyone knows I wear my heart on my sleeve, so to speak.

**Santana:** Idk. Kinda seems like you hold back and want me to shovel around looking sometimes. Like to prove a point or test me or something

**Rachel:** That's incredibly manipulative and would never be a motivating factor in what I do or do not tell you.

**Santana:** ok well whatever, I still think you do it for SOME reason

**Rachel:** As I said, don't worry about me. Your current problems are much more important than anything I could possibly have going on, assuming there was something going on at all.

**Santana:** Rachel, it's not a competition or a ranking system, is everything about scales and contests for you?

**Rachel:** Well, no, but priorities are important, and there are various things that simply aren't worth mentioning at times.

**Santana:** Rachel.

**Rachel:** Yes?

**Santana:** if it's an issue for you, it's worth mentioning. Okay?

**Rachel:** It's fine... Really. Nothing out of the norm or anything particularly worthwhile. Focus on fixing your relationship with Brittany, okay? That should be your number one priority.

**S:** I will. Still. Your idea of "norm" and mine? Probably miles apart.

**Rachel:** Um... how so?

**Santana:** Like, it's normal for people to call you names. That's brand new for me unless the name happens to be Satan or whore. It's normal for people to have slushied you, that was new for me. It's normal for you to wake at 4 am just to bruise your throat up singing at the top of your lungs, but it's normal for me to wake up at 5 so I can run until I can barely move. It's normal for you to eat nasty shit that doesn't have meat but it's normal for me to just skip the eating thing at all. Different normals. But that doesn't mean your normal IS normal.

**Rachel:** Please tell me you've been eating at least a little more lately... And I'd never injure my throat. That would be counter-productive.

**Santana:** that's not the point and not what I asked, is it?

**Rachel:** Your health is very important to me Santana :(

**Santana:** my health is fine. Stop changing the subject.

**Rachel:** I'm not. You asked something about my issues and I said I didn't have any worth speaking of.

**Santana:** and that would be a bs reply, yeah?

**Rachel:** No. That's an honest reply.

**Santana:** easy way or hard way, Rach?

**Rachel:** Santana don't be absurd. I answered your question. Everything is as it usually is in the life of Rachel Berry. There's nothing that needs talking about.

**Santana:** (ignored)

**Rachel:** Santana?

**Rachel:** Santana seriously.[ten minutes later]

**Rachel:** I can't believe this. Are you actually going to do this?[five minutes later]

**Rachel:** You can't ignore me forever you know. We see each other in school![20 minutes later]

**Rachel:** Santana...

**Rachel:** There's nothing... It's not important, okay? It really isn't. And there's nothing you can do about it anyway.[ten minutes later]

**Rachel:** Please stop... Please...

**Santana:** you gonna tell me?

**Rachel:** What do you want me to say, Santana?

**Rachel:** That I'm so pathetic that my best friend - my only real friend - is also my girlfriend? That no matter what I do it's never right and people always seem to just hate me more and as much as I act like it doesn't bother me sometimes it really does?

**Rachel:** Or maybe that I feel like a loser because I know that, no matter what you say, eventually you and Brittany will fix your relationship, and Quinn will always have your back, and I don't have anyone but myself and my fathers. You'll start hanging out with your friends again and I'll just... stay at home. And I don't want you to NOT have friends. I care about you so, so much and I truly want you and Brittany and Quinn to be friends again but... I just

**Rachel:** You're right? Okay. You're right. I'm terrible at a lot of social cues and I have no idea how to act in a casual setting that doesn't involve music somehow. It's the only thing I know I'm good at, and the only thing people ever need me around for. It's why Glee tolerates me, why anyone but you or my fathers talk to me at all.

**Rachel:** So fine. Yes. I'm lonely and pathetic and I wish I knew what was wrong with me. Or at least why I'm not good enough for people to like.

**Rachel:** But I don't, and I'm not. And there's really nothing you can do about that. You can't make people like me, Santana... And that includes Brittany.

**Rachel:** At least she's pretending, though. And even though I know it's just because you told her to, I mean, that's SOMETHING, right?

**Rachel:** If I try hard enough and don't think about it too much I can sometimes convince myself that she's spending time with me because she actually wants to. And that's good enough. It has to be.

**Santana:** ...this is your idea of nothing?

**Santana:** Rachel...I didn't know you felt like that.

**Santana:** you're not pathetic. Okay? and people don't really hate you. they just don't get you. you're not the world's easiest to understand. they don't get you adn don't know you.

**S:** People in Glee like you. Tina does, and Kurt and Mercedes and them. Way, way, way more than they like me. If you would just chill out and ask them to do things and be around them more, show them you how you are outside Glee, they'd see it more and they'd like you more.

**S:** people have to get used to you slowly, that's all. and you need to work on the social thing. which means you have to get out more and do social stuff and learn about it. which I can totally help you with. just like i did with the clothes

**S:** not because i'm trying to change you or whatever, but because you're unhappy. ok?

**S:** jeez, Rachel, at least people will actually like you if they know you. you think anyone really likes me? Hell, even Glee hates me. The only people who really like me at all are you and Quinn and Brittany. And that's questionable with Quinn half the time. It's just the social thing, it's not YOU.

**Rachel:** No one in Glee likes me, Santana. They need me, that's it. They know that without me the whole club would completely fall apart, even if they won't admit it. Like I said, I'm tolerated for my talent and knowledge of organization and music.

**Rachel:** Besides... People would like you, too, if you they really got to know you. You don't realize it, but you're easy to like, and easy to fall in love with. You have a terrible attitude sometimes, but you're incredibly passionate, and protective, and caring. You just don't let anyone see that side of you.

**Rachel:** I don't even have the excuse of pushing people away like you do. I could go to a party and everyone would ask why "Manhands Berry" is there, or "Who let the tranny in". I could dress in the most fashionable way possible, but the second I spoke they'd tell me shut up and that I'm "more cool when I don't talk", or something.

**Rachel:** So, as much as I'd like to be believe you, I know it's me. I know there's something wrong with me, or simply something about me that makes people unable to stand being around me unless they need me a specific person, or because they HAVE to be around me.

**Santana:** ...get on the phone because my hands won't even be able to peck out all I gotta say

Calls

**Rachel:** [sighs heavily, biting her lip before pressing the 'Call' button on Santana's name]

**Santana:** (not even waiting to say hello) First off, bullshit. They like you a hell of a lot better than they'll ever like me. They make fun of you but they respect you and yes they LIKE YOU. Now anyway. No, they do not like me, not that I care, but they don't and never will and that's just how it is. You're hard to get to know and all your unsocial crap gets in the way but you still have this thing where once people get over how totally annoying you can be it's actually sort of cute. Okay? It's not you. The party thing is because it's years of habit and they don't know you, not because of who you actually are. You're awesome and funny even if you don't mean to be most of the time, and you are loyal and care like crazy even if it's over all the stuff people wish you wouldn't. And you're gorgeous and they're all jealous. Okay? Just accept it. Now.

**Rachel:** [sniffles] You're insane to think people could never like you, Santana Lopez. You're possibly the sweetest and most incredibly human being I know. Thank you... I don't... I'll try, okay? To believe you.

**Santana:** See this is where the crazy Rachel part comes in though, thinking I'm sweet. Wanky. Stop crying. You are not allowed to cry and you're not allowed not to believe me. Santana Lopez tells no lies. Well unless it's funny or benefits me in some way which is, sorta often, but whatevs.

**Rachel:** You are sweet. At least with the people you care about, in your own way. [sniffles again] And I can't help it. I'm very emotional right now and I have a lot of feelings and you did that thing where you remind me why I love you so much. [wipes her eyes]

**Santana:** I could remind you a lot better with my hands and lips, carina. Listen. I don't date people who aren't awesome. Anymore.

**Rachel:** [watery laugh] Well you do seem to be a lot more hands on... And you know you're allowed over whenever, Santana. Also, I want to sing something to you. I'm not sure what, yet. But I just really want to sing for you.

**Santana:** Go for it. I've got ears.

(Texts the next day)

Santana: Britt...I wanna hang out more. Okay? Also...I wish you would've let me come over the other night when I felt bad...

Brittany: Yeah, we can do that. I know and I'm sorry. You know that if Tina wasn't there I would've let you come over immediately, but we'd been planning the sleepover all week. And if you wanted to I would've let you come over the next day.

Santana: I know but you picked her over me.

Brittany: Was I supposed to tell Tina to leave or something?

Santana: Yes….maybe. Or at least have me come over too or…I don't know. Never mind. This is lame.

Brittany: It's not lame, Santana. Do you really think I'm picking Tina over you?

Santana: Well, yeah. Obviously.

Brittany: And why would you even think that? You're my best friend.

Santana: because I needed you and you were with her. and anything could have happened but you were just with her instead. and you spend more time with her now and you have all these jokes and you give her hugs and you told Asian fantasy that I'm being weird.

**Santana:** Right out where everyone could see.

**Santana:** you're mad at me, aren't you? even though you're saying you're my best friend. Are you not telling the truth? do you not want to be my friend anymore?

**Brittany:** 1) Don't call her names. 2) You are being really weird. I'm not mad at you, should I have a reason to be? Because right now I can't think of any.

**Brittany:** Why do you think I wouldn't want to be? Do you not want to be my friend anymore?

**Santana:** I am not being weird. It's not weird that I don't like you calling me weird for everyone to see and doing it to TINA

**Santana:** you're acting like you're mad at me. you called me weird in front of everyone and you're supposed to be my best friend, if they see you think i'm weird they'll think you don't like me and you're like the ONLY PERSON other than Rachel who likes me and if you don't like me then that's ALL and then what am I supposed to do, then if you don't like me Quinn won't and then you'll both take my place in Cheerios and I'm already on the bottom and Sue's already mad over Rachel

**Santana:** I want to be your friend but you're not acting like you want to be my friend and you're not telling me what's going on and you didn't let me come over and you're with tina all the time telling her i'm weird!

**Brittany:** You're not weird, you're acting weird right now... you're acting crazy. You think that I hate you and don't want to be your friend anymore and I'm choosing Tina over you. None of those are true.

**Brittany:** I swear on LT I'm not mad at you! I don't have anything going on. And I'm with Tina all the time because you're always with Rachel, okay? You have a girlfriend now and it's taking up all your time, so..

**Santana:** I'm not acting crazy!

**Santana:** it's not taking up all my time, I can change my time but you don't even say and you don't even ask and it's like you don't even want my time because you have tina and you don't care because she's your new best friend and she's nicer than me and she doesn't have a girlfriend and she's even bi so she's probably making moves sinking her stupid overly pained asian fingernails into you and you just don't see it because you're too busy closing your eyes when you hug her

**Santana:** i'm not weird, i'm not crazy!

**Brittany:** What do you call it then? I've never seen you act like this before.

**Brittany:** It works both ways Santana. Even before the Tina thing you weren't asking to hang out with me and I didn't want to ask because I figured you'd reject me to hang out with her.

**Brittany:** ...Wait Tina's bi? How do you know? Why do you have to be so mean when it comes to her? You're not mean to all my other friends... you are but not this bad.

**Santana:** I AM NOT CRAZY

**Santana:** NO I would not. You're my best friend, I don't reject you, I wanna hang out with you and I want to do stuff and I NEED YOU and you don't need me anymore, I took care of you when you were sick and I came over and we cuddled and you don't even remember, Tina made you forget

**Santana:** she sang I kissed a girl and she's Asian with weird hair, of course she's bi

**Santana:** because you like her better than me! she's making you not like me or want to be with me anymore!

**Brittany:** I've needed you since we were little and I still need you now. And I remember most of it, some of it was forgotten because of medicines, not Tina.

**Brittany:** That doesn't mean anything. That song is catchy and her hair is cute. It's.. different with Tina, but that doesn't mean I like her more than you. She's not making me not like you, I'll always like you.

**Santana:** you think I'm weird and crazy You said that.

**Brittany:** Without getting angry, can we agree that you were acting different? I just couldn't think of any other way to explain it.

**Brittany:** Do you forgive me or do you hate me now?

**S:** (ignores)

88

Rachel was being way cooler about the Brittany thing than Santana had expected. After all, Santana knew for a fact if Rachel was upset over Finn doing, well, anything, she would get really jealous, really fast. She had expected no less from Rachel. But her girlfriend was obviously cooler than she was in some ways, because she had not only taken the Brittany issue in stride, accepting Santana's hurt and jealousy towards Tina, but even encouraging her to work things out with Brittany. Rachel was being the bigger person over it, and Santana did appreciate it.

She tried, when she was around Rachel, not to mention Brittany at all, or even to think about her. That was what seemed fair to Rachel, after all. And normally she could manage it well. But this particular night, she made the mistake of checking her texts and tumblr when Rachel was in the kitchen- undoubtedly preparing what she would declare to be healthy and delicious snacks for herself that she just happened to lay around like Santana might be tempted to have them, that is, if she didn't force them down her outright. And this casual time killing activity was what made any efforts of not thinking of Brittany immediately shoot downhill and then some.

On her tumblr dashboard, there it was, plain and clear. It was bad enough that Brittany and Tina were gushing back and forth to each other, obviously having a ball together, just like they seemed to be every single day lately. But there in black of and white, for the world to see, Brittany had said it. She had called Santana weird. Publicly. Not in a good way. To Tina Cohen-Chang, of all people.

To Santana, this was no casual comment .This was a deep betrayal. She, Santana Lopez, was not publicly insulted by anyone without them getting retaliated against…and for her best friend, for BRITTANY to do so? Brittany, who rarely insulted anyone on her very own without someone guiding her towards it? What would that say to people? What did that say to Santana?

Even before she started hunching over her phone, furiously texting away, Santana's throat was already tight, her eyes growing hot with a combination of anger, fear, and hurt. As the exchanges between them continued, with Brittany reiterating that she thought Santana was being "weird" and crazy," she grew progressively more agitated until she was shaking.

If Brittany didn't like her anymore, that meant she no longer had a best friend…no longer had BRITTANY as a best friend. And if Brittany, who liked pretty much everyone but Rachel and wouldn't tolerate anyone bullying anymore, no longer liked Santana and said bad things about her, what message would that send the rest of the school? Then not only would no one like her, they would have Brittany as a leader against her and they would probably overthrow the carefully set rules and boundaries the unholy Trinity had set up long ago to protect them from the wrath of the student body at large. Santana would not just be disliked, she would be UNPOPULAR and disliked and also GAY and also DATING RACHEL BERRY while IN THE GLEE CLUB. How could she possibly get through that much against her in the eyes of the other kids?

Humming as she carried the tray of carrots, dip, and celery up the stairs, Rachel was feeling pretty good, all things considered. Santana had been honest with her, and hadn't called her stupid for voicing her own fears, and she liked to think that she had managed the whole ordeal rather well.

Her therapist would certainly be proud.

All but skipping into the room with a bright smile on her face, the light in her eyes dimmed considerably as she saw the Latina hunched over, texting rapidly, and looking… A lot more upset than she had been all of ten minutes ago…

Setting the tray down on her desk carefully, biting her lip, Rachel carefully approached Santana, brows furrowed with worry. "Santana…? Are you…" She changed her wording quickly, realizing that obviously her girlfriend was anything but okay. "What's wrong?"

Rachel looked over the girl's shoulder, managing to catch bits and pieces of the texting, and immediately sat down on the bed next Santana, placing her hand the girl's shoulder. She didn't know what to say- had no words for this sort of situation. She never had a best friend, which meant no drama with them, which meant this was a scenario that she was completely unprepared for.

What Rachel did know, however, was that there was a certain amount of tension building up inside of her because of Brittany. But instead of jealousy, it was just anger.

Brittany was, apparently, starting to really upset and hurt Santana, and that wasn't something Rachel could just let slide.

Santana noticed when Rachel came in and sat beside her, but didn't look up or acknowledge her. Her throat was so tight that she knew if she spoke her voice would crack, and if she looked at Rachel and saw concern in her face, it was very likely she would burst into tears. Keeping her eyes fixed on the screen of her phone, she continued texting, noticing when Rachel sat next to her and touched her, but still not yet responding to it. When she finally threw the phone down on the bed, her hands moving to grip her knees, head bowed, she is still fighting back her feelings, not yet able to think of a response for Rachel.

She couldn't explain this either and Rachel didn't need her to, even if she did understand. How would that be fair?

Unsure of how to proceed, and not wanting to set Santana off, but also not wanting her to think that Rachel didn't care, it took several seconds for Rachel to work up the courage, but then she slowly wrapped her arms around the cheerleader, drawing her in for a loose hug. She figured that if Santana wanted to pull away, she could.

Though she desperately hoped that she didn't.

She swallowed tightly, trying to reign in her own emotions. She needed to focus on Santana, not herself or how she felt about this right now.

"You know I love you, right?" It was a loaded question, filled so many little things left unsaid; Rachel loved Santana, despite how angry she was sometimes, or how rude she could, how harsh her words came out at times. She loved her, so much, and even when she was angry or hurt by Santana, she was starting to realize that that love never went away. If anything, for every fight they got through, Rachel was pretty sure she fell in love a little more.

It was so damn hard not to cry.

The minute Rachel wrapped her arms around her, not in a suffocating sort of way that would make Santana want to shrug her off, but instead a gentle, comforting way, a way that made her feel only that she was there with her, that she cared, it was very, very hard for Santana to keep holding back tears. She could feel them tensing up her jaw and pricking at her eyes, the sudden heat in her cheeks and eyes and even up her nose, and she didn't lean back or move her arms to hug Rachel back. Hearing Rachel's question, she nodded. Yeah, she did know that. Sometimes it seemed like Rachel Berry was the only person who did love her, the only person in all the world.

Nodding back, not letting go but not tightening her hold either, Rachel laid her head on Santana's shoulder, continuing to speak quietly. "Good…" She took a deep breath then.

"I know it's not the same, and that I'm your girlfriend, not your best friend, but… But that doesn't mean that…" Sighing, frustrated with her lack of words, she tried again. "What I mean to say is, you _are _a wonderful, beautiful person, who deserves every ounce of love you get, and no amount of cruelty. I… I honestly didn't really see what was said, and I won't ask you to tell me, but whatever Brittany said to upset you… She's wrong. You're not perfect, but you are good. And you have a lot of issues, but you're strong. The strongest person in this whole stupid town."

Rachel knew that it wasn't the same, to be told any of these things by a significant other. She understood that Brittany, no matter what, meant the world to Santana, as did her opinions, and there wasn't much Rachel could ever do to change that. But she still needed to say it; had to let Santana know.

"And… And I'm really sorry she's not being the best friend you deserve to have…"

There was no possible way she could hold it back anymore, not after that.

Somewhere around the time Rachel said she was a "wonderful, beautiful person," the tears exploded out, and Santana sobbed aloud, moving one hand to cover her face as her other hand went instinctively to her stomach, balling into a fist and pressing hard into her abdomen. She remained hunched over for a few seconds, her hair falling forward to brush her legs, before she turned in Rachel's hold, arms grasping hold of her as she hid her face in Rachel's shoulder. She feels awful for reacting like this, guilty and weak and wrong, like she's being incredibly unfair to her, but she feels so bad in the moment and Rachel is there, Rachel is saying all the things that she needs to hear and is trying to believe, and she can't seem to make herself pull back and draw back in for Rachel's sake.

For a minute or two she remains against her, trying to calm down, and eventually, still not yet drawing back, she manages, "She thinks I'm weird and crazy…she kept saying that and she put it where everyone can see. She isn't going to like me anymore. She put that where EVERYONE can see."

Rachel held Santana tighter as the girl fell apart in her arms, adjusting them as best she could on the bed so that she could hug Santana easier, and trying to keep her own tears from welling up behind her eyes.

A lot of things made Rachel cry, but she was pretty sure that only Santana Lopez could make her heart break like this.

She kissed the side of Santana's head, rocking them back and forth slowly, and holding her girlfriend just a little bit tighter. She had to, otherwise she felt like she'd end up calling Brittany in that very moment and letting lose a very passionate and very vocal Rachel Berry rant.

Instead, with another shaking breath, she replied, "The only crazy one is her then, Santana. _You _are not crazy. You're going more than any teenager should ever have to and being so strong and working so hard to balance your life right now." She kissed Santana's temple again. "As for 'everyone'. They're idiots. You know that. And no matter they'll always fear you. Just the other day you gave one of the basketball players a black eye because he slapped your ass, remember? Every time someone thinks you're an easy target you show them otherwise. And if anything happens I know you'll do it again. And I'll always have your back. I know you think I'm tiny and I admit that I abhor violence and couldn't throw a punch to save my life, but I'm really good at talking, and I've made more than a few people walk away simply because they wanted to stop listening to me."  
Despite her attempts at trying to ease some of the tension, Rachel was perfectly serious. If anyone tried messing with Santana, they wouldn't just have 'Snix' to deal with.

Tuning in Rachel's words sporadically as she sniffled against her shoulder, trying to stem further crying, Santana did manage to catch the majority of what she was telling her. She let the other girl rock her, keeping her arms tight around her, as though Rachel could somehow anchor her as she could not for herself in the moment.

She tried to believe what Rachel said, about not being crazy, about being strong. And when Rachel reminded her of Luke's black eye, a small smile flickered over her lips. She nodded against her, the smile returning again when Rachel mentioned how she could make people leave her alone simply talking. Actually that was all too true.

"You could tell them about classical musicians," she muttered, "or you could just recite the periodic table or something…that would do it…"

Smiling a little against Santana's cheek, Rachel replied, "I don't actually know the whole Periodic Table, but if it meant helping you I'd memorize the whole thing and put a tune to it just so that I could sing it loudly any time someone tried talking smack about you."

Really, there wasn't much that Rachel wouldn't do for Santana anymore. Off hand, barring illegal acts, she couldn't think of anything. And technically she had already broken into someone's pool for the cheerleader, so…

"If all else fails I can start quoting from Barbra Streisand's bibliography. The sheaple of McKinley High could use a little culture in their lives anyway." Bringing one of her hands up, she gently moved Santana's hair out of her face, prompting the girl to look up. She unwrapped her arms from her, pressing her hands to Santana's cheeks and wiping away the tears with the pads of her thumbs, then she leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips, before pulling back a few inches.

"I love you. All of you. I even love Snix. Despite that sometimes she's really scary," spoke Rachel, giving Santana a small, teasing smile.

"That's surprising…I thought you thought you knew everything," Santana mumbled. She took in a slow breath, released it, slightly stirring Rachel's hair. Her small smile emerged again, even with faint laugh at Rachel's declaration of reciting the Streisand biography. She could totally see this happening, and it would be hysterical.

Letting Rachel wipe her face, gently kissing her back, she sniffled again, shrugging her hair back over her shoulders as she looked back at Rachel, half sitting on her lap. "I know you love Snix. You talk about her way more than I do. You probably hope she kicks me out of bed one night and has r naughty way with you."

Blushing hotly despite herself, unable to stop the sudden wave of rather… explicit mental imagery, Rachel let her hands drop from Santana's face and looked down, clearing her throat and shifting awkwardly under the Cheerio.

"Ahem. Yes. Well." She stuttered over her words a bit, knowing exactly how absurd it was for her brain to short-circuit so easily, and especially after Santana had just a break down due to her best friend. "That's not the point here. And I can't be blamed for the fact that you're… incredibly sexy when you get angry like that. Well, I mean, when it's not aimed at me at least."

She cleared her throat again, still unable to make eye contact with her girlfriend. "There's something… very primal and attractive about you being able to layout a young man twice your weight. Or needing to be held back by several young men also twice your weight when you 'unleash Snix' as you say."

Was her face still red? Rachel was sure her face still red.

And this was completely inappropriate. Not to mention she was very much against violence so really the idea of Santana fighting at all should not have made her as hot as it did.

Her body truly had the worst timing in the world.

Noticing and amused by Rachel's embarrassment, Santana capitalized on it. Leaning her head back into Rachel's shoulder, she shifted herself so she was fully sitting on her lap, putting most of her weight into leaning back into her. Arching her back, she turned to whisper in her ear, close enough so her lips touched her skin, as her hand crept up her neck, stroking it lightly.

"Imagine what Snix could do to you, senorita."

Well this was one way to try to distract herself.

With a strangled whimper, Rachel could practically feel the heat going from her face down to her neck. She was most definitely imagining, and the look in Santana's eyes, the husk of her voice and the feel of fingers and lips running along her pulse, made her shiver.

"Th- this is incredibly inappropriate right now," she managed to choke out, hands going awkwardly to Santana's hips, not quite sure where to touch or be as she tried to hide how much Santana effected her.

It was mostly a lost cause, given that even on a normal day Santana just had to wink and smirk at her in the hallways and she'd be blushing.

"Why is it inappropriate? You're my girlfriend and I'm on your lap with my lips touching you…I think it's totally, incredibly appropriate," Santana countered, lightly kissing Rachel's ear, then nipping its lobe. Pulling back a little, she covered Rachel's hands on her hips, guiding them down lower and forward.

Yeah this was definitely the best way to distract herself. Never mind that her glowing phone is still a foot away with Brittany's name lit up on it or that her eyes are red, her nose tinged pink. It's not like she can see it and she's totally, totally ready to throw herself into making out with abandon. Totally.

Rachel bit her lip, tensing her arms to stop Santana form moving her hands more. "San-" She never thought she'd be the one saying this, but, "Are you sure? Because you were really, really upset a moment ago, and my physical reactions aside, I'll be perfectly okay if you'd like to just cuddle or watch a movie or something."

Wrapping her arms around Santana's waist, though it was a big awkward since their differences in size were made more evident with the cheerleader on her lap, Rachel kissed her shoulder. "If making out is what you need, then I am definitely not going to stop you. But if you just want to cuddle, or tease me about Broadway, we can do that, too. Whatever you want, Santana. It's your choice."

Of course the obvious response was she was going to make out with Rachel. She'd be stupid to say otherwise. Of COURSE she was going to make out with her, that was totally what she wanted.

And yet. Somehow it felt almost forced, like she was trying more than feeling. And in the end Santana pulled back, exhaling.

"How do you just know things?" she muttered, still in her lap, even as she wrapped her arm around Rachel's shoulders, pillowing her head on her shoulder. "Sorry."

Rachel leaned back, rolling them onto their sides so that she could press herself up against Santana and they could hold each other more comfortably. She pecked Santana's nose softly, moving the black hair that had fallen in the girl's face over her shoulder. "I'm a little bit psychic, remember?" she teased softly in reply.

"And… well… I know that, if I had a best friend to lose, and felt like I was losing them, I'd want to be held and told that things were going to be okay. Even if I didn't believe the person telling me that, I'd want to hear it, you know? I'd want someone to say all the things that my mind wasn't." She shifted as close she could to her girlfriend and began running her hand through her hair, sighing quietly. "And I know that you'd do all that for me, in your wonderful Santana-like way. So I'm doing the same, in my special, Rachel-like way."

Santana overlapped her leg with Rachel's, wrapping her arms back around her and moving in close. She smiles a little when Rachel kisses her nose, a little embarrassed because it's somewhat stuffy, and listens to her talk, taking some comfort in her words and touch. Rachel was right, that she did want this. She did feel this. And it felt so nice for Rachel to be stroking her hair, telling her these things. Maybe she didn't quite believe, but she almost could.

"I like having a smart girlfriend," she said softly, one hand splaying across her back. "You're awesome."

Smiling, enjoying the weight and heat of Santana's body against her own, Rachel giggled a little. "I like having a badass girlfriend, so it evens out, right? And remember? You don't date losers anymore. So _of course _I'm awesome."

She leaned in to softly press her lips against Santana's known, for no reason other than because she wanted the physical connection for a moment. Then Rachel pulled back, only a few inches, her nose and Santana's nose almost, but not quite, touching. "Really, between the two of us, I think we can handle anything this stupid town tries to throw at us. I'm sure of it, and Rachel Berry is never wrong. Not about these things."

"I never DATED losers," Santana clarified, shrugging one shoulder. "I just sort of did stuff with them. Sex isn't dating."

Smiling into Rachel's kiss, she kisses back, somewhat cross-eyed and not understanding why she is staying so close to her without looking away or moving in. Giving a faint chuckle, she nods, moving her face back so there is some distance between. "Yeah. Totally. Take on the world."

Still. If she takes on the world but loses Brittany, is she really winning at all?

"We'll figure it out, alright? I'll help you however I can with Brittany, and everything will be okay. I promise. Rachel Berry _also _never breaks a promise."

She yawned then, turning her head to see the time. It was only 7pm, so they had some time together still. Turning back to Santana, Rachel settled into her, closing her eyes and moving to get as much of the girl's body heat as possible. "Let's just relax for awhile though, okay? Important thing can happen tomorrow. For now, just lay with me."

Nodding, taking in and then letting out several slow breaths, Santana half closed her eyes,cuddling in close and breathing in Rachel's scent against her. She felt her breathing begin to settle into a rhythm, and she listened to Rachel's breathing, her heartbeat, and began to feel just a little better as a result.

She was with Rachel, and Rachel loved her, if not anyone else. Rachel was there and always would be. She was sure of that much.


	37. Chapter 37

**Texts**

**Rachel:** I know I told you this at the game, but you looked incredibly sexy cheering tonight. Even though you were on the bottom of the pyramid, the various stunts and flips you did whilst being thrown into the air were incredible.

**Rachel:** Also I am forever going to be terrified of your safety from now on.

**Santana:** :) You should totally join. I'd train you up. I know exactly how flexible you are ;)

**Rachel:** While I appreciate the consideration, a few things; Sue would actually try to kill me, I'd look terrible in those uniforms no matter how much you think otherwise, and I'd have no time for my dance, singing, or Glee activities. I think one cheerleader in this relationship and one Broadway starlet is the exactly right recipe for perfection. 3

**Santana:** she'd probably just try to kill you for a week or two, that's all. maybe a month

**Santana:** you would look AMAZING in the uniform. in fact i insist you try mine on asap. and take pics

**Rachel:** Santana, your uniform wouldn't even fit right. Our proportions are completely different. I mean, I'd practically drown in your top simply due to the difference in the.. uh... chest size.

**S:** That's bullshit. I'm like a 32C. You're at least a B

**S:** So what are you really saying?

**Rachel:** You're easily an entire cup size up from me. And all I meant is that our proportions are different. Your torso is longer than mine, for one. And your posterior is much nicer.

**S:** whatever.

**Rachel:** Santana. You ARE a bigger person than I am. It's unavoidable. I'm 3 inches shorter and at least ten pounds lighter, simply due to our heights and differences in muscularity. And your chest IS bigger. That's also unavoidable. It's NOT bad. It's completely normal. And I like that you're taller than I am. It means you can be the big spoon more often and it's nice when you hold me like that.

**Santana:** (ignores)

**Rachel:** Santana... This time you're legitimately being ridiculous. There's nothing wrong with being the taller person in a relationship. I like that. I think it adds to your sex appeal a lot. Your proportions and athletic build are beautiful. I'm sorry that I'm smaller in comparison, but there's nothing I can do about that...

**S:** yeah. that's exactly why you can't even fit in my uniform. because i'm soooooo beautiful

**Rachel:** Exactly.

**Santana:** just stop. i'll just go buy you an outfit made for a keebler elf and i'll let Bigfoot try mine, or better yet, Tubbs Hudson

**Rachel:** Alright. I'm actually in need of clarification here.

**Rachel:** How did you translate me stating the actual fact of our two bodies being of different heights and proportions into me calling you fat?

**Rachel:** Because I know that that's what your brain did, and I'm not sure if you're actually registering this.

**S:** you said i'm heavier and that you won't fit in my outfit. you said i'm larger.

**Rachel:** Sweetie, you are at least 3 inches taller. If you weighed less than me I would be incredibly, /incredibly/ worried for your health. Especially with your muscle mass. It would actually be unsafe. Extremely unsafe.

**Rachel:** Also. Your boobs are bigger, Santana. As I said, at least a cup size. And your torso IS longer than mine. I'd fit in your uniform, but it wouldn't fit /right/.

**Santana:** I'm not tall.

**Santana:** It's not that much difference. I could lose more.

**Rachel:** Taller than I am.

**Rachel:** Santana Veronica Lopez I am barely 107lb. I swear if you drop below that I will be very much tempted to have you hospitalized /simply because/ with the amount of exercise you do there is no way your body would be able to manage and I am not ready to see you collapse due to malnutrition and having to be hooked up to a bunch of wires and and just no. No. I'll never be ready to see that. I won't let you get there.

**S:** Chill out.

**S:** No one dies because they weight 104 pounds. YOU don't. So chill out.

**Rachel:** Do you want to know what the ideal weight for a woman of your height and frame is considered? 117-130. And I can bet, I can /bet/ that you barely make that. There are other factors, such as muscle mass, BMI, etc, but the fact remains is this; for you to drop anywhere under 110 is dangerous. You would HAVE to lose muscle mass. You would literally have to lose your muscle, and continue to burn any and all fat.

**Rachel:** Your body would essentially have to start eating itself in order to function.

**Rachel:** And that's when people die, Santana.

**Santana:** Don't be so dramatic. That's not true. People get down to like 70 pounds and are still walking around breathing.

**Santana:** And burning fat is good.

**Rachel:** People at 70 are nothing but skin and bones Santana. That's it. No muscle, no strength, nothing. They are actual sticks. You think you could cheer? You couldn't. You'd even be hard pressed to perform in Glee without passing out.

**Rachel:** And at your height? 70 would kill you. You would be in the hospital, /dying/. Fighting for your life. You may not care about that. But I'm the one that would be sitting at your hospital bed, assuming they'd even let me see you, watching your body desperately try to keep itself alive.

**Santana:** jesus, i didn't say i'd be 70 pounds. I'm not stupid

**Santana:** 104 is 30 pounds heavier than that. That's like small normal. It's FINE so just chill out already! And anyway I'm not even there as you pointed out so it's not even an issue so just whatever

**S:** Conversation over and resolved

**Rachel:** No. Not resolved. I already told you, that if you drop below even 115 you're already in trouble. 70 is critical, Santana. That's literally on the edge of life and death.

**Santana:** I'm not gonna weigh 70 pounds, jesus! I'd have to cut off my legs and arms to do that!

**Rachel:** You're not going to weight anything below 115 either! Honestly you could easily be 120 and be completely healthy and perfect.

**Santana:** ...like hell

**Santana:** I'm done talking about this.

**Rachel:** Then we're done talking for the night, because I'm in tears and you don't even care about what you're doing to yourself or the people around you.

**Rachel:** I'll talk to you later. Goodnight. I love you.

**Santana:** OMG are you CRYING?! There's no reason to cry! I'm FINE!

**Santana:** I'm not dying in some hospital bed missing my arms and legs, I'm FINE!

**Santana:** Not to mention no one cares or thinks there's any problem at all except you so what do you mean what i'm doing to people around me, i"m not doing anything!

**Rachel:** [ignores because if she doesn't she'll just become more hysterical]

**Santana:** are you ignoring me AGAIN?!

**Santana:** Rachel Berry, if you're over there crying for absolutely no reason at all over something this stupid...

**Santana:** OMG obviously I'm fine. I wouldn't be LARGER THAN YOU if I wasn't!

**Santana:** God stop it!

**texts: Brittana**

**Santana: O**kay I know I'm mad at you or whatever but Rachel is driving me insane. like she's flipping out for no good reason so we're not talking

**Santana:** but it's just sort of like, i'm sort of weirded out or something... it's lame

**Santana:** it's just i'm bigger than her

**Santana:** and I sort of hate it

**Santana:** no...I really hate ; I really, really, really hate it.

**Brittany:** It's okay...I'm not mad. and it's Not lame.

**Santana:** I'm supposed to be the little one. I was with Puck and Finn and Sam and even you and even stupid Karofsky even if he was just a beard

**Santana:** I'm always the little one

**Santana:** I want to be the smallest one. I don't want to be the big one and I don't want her to weigh less than me and I don't want to be bigger than her or fatter than her.

**Brittany:** Maybe you need to talk about everything face to face, just show up at her house and force her to.

**Brittany:** Why are you so freaked out about being bigger than her though? Lawn gnomes are bigger than Rachel.

**Brittany:** Santana, you realize you weigh more than her because of your muscle? Muscle weighs more than fat. Plus, Rachel's probably like 10 pounds so it's good that you weigh more than her.

**Brittany:** Make her wear heels and eat a bunch of cake and then she'll be the bigger one.

**Santana:** I don't care. she still weighs more.

**Santana:** hm maybe I should

**Brittany:** You shouldn't care. If Rachel weighed 10 pounds, would you want to weigh 5 and blow away when it was windy?

**Brittany:** Don't actually do that. I was kidding. That's not a good idea.

**Santana:** yes.

**Santana:** she doesn't weigh ten pounds anyway. she's 107 and I could do less than that.

**Santana:** I think she likes cake though.

**Brittany:** You're perfect at the weight you're at now, you don't look fat or anything like that. You're super hot and your body is awesome and it's kind of sad that you don't even see that.

**Brittany:** Well, yeah, everyone likes cake. That doesn't mean you get her fat from it.

**Santana:** I just want to be a little less than her. that's all.

**Santana:** I could try. not fat. just bigger than me.

**Brittany:** Do you realize that if you lose weight that when we're outside for Cheerios practice, when they throw you up in the air, we're going to have to tie a rope to you so you don't float away.

**Brittany:** I'll tell Rachel not to eat any cake, Santana.

**Santana:** ...I though I explained that only happens with balloons and not people?

**S:** don't be mean, Brittanyyyy

**Brittany:** Doesn't matter, it'd still happen to you.

**Brittany:** I'm not, I think that'd be really uncool of you.

**S:** You just don't get it.

88

It had been almost a full day of frustration on both sides before Santana somewhat forgave Rachel and Brittany both for their comments about her weight and her eating. She was well aware of them watching her, and she attempted to exaggerate to them both with her actions and her words just how fine she really was, but she couldn't deny that their wariness was actually stressing her more. And with there now being a full out war at her house between her abuela and her mother and her, it was stressful for her just to breathe most of the time.

She had invited Rachel over to her home for the first time in a moment of anger, wanting Rachel to see for herself how it was every day, and moreover, wanting to stick it to her abuela. But as she waited for Rachel to arrive, Santana was already regretting.

There was so much that could go wrong with Rachel coming to Santana's house. It was exactly why she had never allowed her to before. Her mami was going to be home any minute and she would want to get to know her and be "interested," which could mean either her or Rachel embarrassing her. And of course, her abuela. Her abuela would embarrass the hell out of her, make her feel angry or ashamed or afraid of what she might do, and there was no telling how awful she might be to Rachel. Santana couldn't stand to expose Rachel to that.

But she was angry now, angry and upset and she didn't care what her abuela or anyone else thought. This was her house and if her abuela was going to violate her space, she'd do everything she could to prove a point and make her uncomfortable too. If she said a word to Rachel she would light into her and make her regret it. She just better dare. This was her house too.

As she waited for Rachel to come, changing her clothes several times and obsessively straightening her room and bathroom, Santana ended up positioning herself by the doorway, looking for her. When her mother, Maribel, came home and saw her practically standing in the doorway, she gave her an odd look and asked her what was going on, but Santana shrugged her off. She would have enough questions to answer when Rachel got there.

Rachel had never showered quite so quickly in her life. She was in and out in seven minutes, drying her hair in a towel as she nicest casual set of clothing she owned (a skirt and top both bought when she went shopping with Santana), and was out of her room with barely enough time to brush through her hair. Her fathers were in the living room, and she didn't even pause as she told them "I'm going to Santana's!" before she was grabbing her keys, purse, and shoes and running out the door.

She was at the Lopez house in ten, and maybe she had done a little speeding but this was her first time going over, and if Santana wanted her to, she wasn't going to waste time.

She parked behind Santana's car, got out, and approached the front door with more than a little apprehension.

Rachel had never actually been to the house, and she certainly had never met Santana's parents, or her abuela. Though Santana had said there was a reason for the latter, and Rachel couldn't really fault the girl…

Biting her lip, hoping she looked at least partially presentable, Rachel knocked on the door firmly.

Santana Saw Rachel coming and went to meet her long before she actually was at the doorstep, mainly because she was basically hanging at the window waiting for her approach. As she opened the door for her, she was aware of Maribel out the corner of her eye watching, her face alit with curiosity, lips twisting into a wry smile that made Santana's face burn even as she gestured Rachel inside.

"Okay we can just go to my room and-"

"Uno momento, Santana, where are your manners?" her mother interrupted her, eyebrows raised as she came forward, obviously not about to let her get away with this. Smiling at Rachel, she nodded towards her. "I am not about to ignore a…friend, of yours, a guest in our home, no matter how much you might prefer it. Who is this young lady we have here?"

Santana had invited Rachel over in a moment of anger and rebellion, but now that she was actually here, all she could think was how completely stupid she had been. WHY had she thought this was a good idea?

Santana knew she was blushing even more brilliantly as she gestured with a limp wrist towards Rachel, muttering without meeting her mother's eyes, " This is Rachel. Berry. We're going to my room and-"

"You most certainly are not, manners, hija!" Maribel scolded as she extended her hand towards Rachel to take. "Rachel? My name is Maribel Lopez, I am Santana's mother, as you doubt guessed, but as she has neglected to inform you. No doubt you have observed by now that my daughter is not one to abide by proper rules of etiquette on many occasions, hopefully you will be a good example and rub off on her, yes?"

She gave a slight laugh, playfully squeezing Santana's shoulder after shaking Rachel's hand when she sees and is clearly amused by her daughter's embarrassment. "It is nice to see young faces around here again, the house has been rather quiet lately. I do believe I recognize you- you performed with her, yes? In her singing performances? Such a big voice for such a little girl! So Rachel, you are a friend of Santana's, or are you a FRIEND of Santana's?"

"Mami, we're going to my room!" Santana's voice rose slightly as she grabbed hold of Rachel's arm, but then she stopped, seeing her abuela standing at the entrance to the hallway leading in this direction. The look on her face as she stares towards Rachel is not at all a pleasant one, and Santana freezes, quickly directing her gaze back towards her mother.

This had not been a good decision.

It took a moment for Rachel to get her composure at all the speaking going on, but as Santana tried to pull her away Rachel swept right into polite-lady mode and slipped her wrist from Santana's hand, moving to shake Maribel's hand and shoot the older woman a bright and honest woman. "Hello, ma'am! Yes, I have performed several times for the Glee club, alongside Santana. It's a pleasure to meet you." Then she blushed a little, but didn't let her smile falter.

"I um- Yes. I'm- I'm Santana's _friend_. I apologize for the sudden intrusion. I had hoped we'd meet in a more planned setting but-" Then she was suddenly being pulled much more fervently, only to be halted suddenly, nearly running into Santana's back.

Getting her balance back, Rachel opens her mouth to ask what's going on, but it's then she sees an older woman, facial features reminiscent of Maribel and Santana both, and after a moment. Rachel steps from behind her girlfriend, hands folded in front of her and her smile dimmed to something strictly controlled and polite. "Hello, ma'am," she intones, voice a more cool than intended, but she makes no effort to correct it. "You must be Santana's grandmother. I've heard a lot about you."

The look the woman is shooting her is a familiar one; Santana used to shoot the same at her, and it used to terrify her. But Santana doesn't really scare her anymore, and Rachel knows exactly why this woman is eyeing her so harshly. Really, it's the same venomous disprovable her fathers have endeared for years.

They've always smiled passed it, and Rachel isn't about to be any less strong than the men who raised her.

Santana is clinching her jaw so tightly she can feel it all the way down her neck, and it takes all her control to keep from following her instinct to step in front of Rachel and block her from her abuela's view. She wants to touch her, but somehow doubts this will do much to protect Rachel from her any further. She is aware of her mother moving forward behind her, a firm hand coming to rest on her shoulder, her mother's free hand smoothing back her hair over her shoulder from behind her, and Maribel speaks before either Alma or Santana can, giving her daughter's shoulder a light squeeze.

"Alma, this is Rachel Berry, Santana's friend." She puts no teasing accent to it as she introduces her for her daughter, and her voice is civil but very firm. "Santana, you were showing Rachel your room, yes?"

From the way she was eyeing Alma as she spoke, Santana knew she was itching to have words with her, and Santana dreaded it. She did appreciate her mother supporting her, but not at what she felt to be an expense to herself, a showing of a cause and vendetta against her abuela as much as support for Santana. And if this turned into all too familiar shouting with Rachel here…

"Excuse me, Abuela," Santana said in a low, strained tone matching her mother's. "Rachel and I are coming through, and I'm sure you'll want to be as far from us both as possible. You wouldn't want to accidentally brush against either of us. I'm guessing you won't shake her hand either, so if you're done staring her down and you see she's not turning into a pillar of salt or withering up like a fig tree or drowning in a massive flood at your will, you can chalk it up to God's will and let us by."

"Santana," her mother reproved, but her voice was mild, and her eyes were on Alma. The woman did back away, but her eyes remained on Rachel as she spoke.

· "Que no es bienvenida en esta casa, Santana."

"She is not welcome in this house." That was what her abuela was saying to her, and as Santana's cheeks flamed, shame, anger, and embarrassment flooding through her, and she took a step towards her, her mother's hand pulled her back.

"Actually she is very welcome here, Alma, and I do hope we'll be seeing more of her," she said clearly. "If you are uncomfortable, you are more than welcome to visit the church for the remainder of her stay."

Taking in a deep breath, knowing from the death stare Alma gave her mother that this could get very ugly, very fast, Santana took Rachel's elbow, giving her a light push towards the hall.

"It was very nice to meet you, ma'am," spoke Rachel to Maribel as she allowed Santana to guide them down the hall and away from the two women.

As they walked, she slipped her elbow out of Santana's grip, in order to interlace their hands once they were out of view, and squeezed her girlfriend's hand reassuringly.

She didn't know what to say, and figured it best to let Santana be the first to speak. Over all, Maribel seemed nice enough, and… well… Santana's grandmother was… there, she supposed. Though she knew she shouldn't be so terrible angry at the woman as far as taking the high road went, she felt it was perfectly justified.

From what Santana had told Rachel, her abuela was absolutely _terrible_, whether Santana was gay or not, and it made the small diva's blood boil just to think about it. Finally, they got to the room, and she was guided inside as Santana closed to the door behind them.

Rachel looked around, taking in the space with a small smile, despite the situation, at how very Santana it was. Turning back to the taller girl, she smiled. "You've a very nice room, Santana. And your mother seems very pleasant, all things considered." And then, "…Are you alright?"

"It was A lot nicer when it had POSTERS in it," Santana muttered in response to Rachel's comment about her room, pulling away from her and beginning to walk a small, rapid paced circle around her floor. She is attempting to bleed out with this activity her continued anger, and she keeps her eyes fixed ahead, not really looking at Rachel as she talks, her words fast pitched and a little louder than needed.

"She said you're not welcome. She's not welcome, I welcomed you so you are WELCOME, even mami doesn't mind and actually I think she totally gets off on this sometimes because it's the most she's been able to oppose abuela all my life and now it's like she has a reason she can totally get behind and justify it as being about me but I bet it's not. I bet it's more about her than anything else. The way she was looking at you…I want to hit something."

Picking up a stuffed unicorn on her bed, she socked it in the face, then immediately dropped it as she remembered it was a gift from Brittany. Brushing her hand over its face as though to try to rub off the impact of the hit, she hit the pillow instead, then kicked her foot into the bedpost before remembering that she wasn't actually wearing shoes with closed toes. "Ow, fuck!

Rachel listened as Santana ranted, wanting to let the girl get it out of her system as much as she could. She sat on the large bed (much bigger than hers, for one, and she ignored the question of how many times Brittany and Santana had possibly been in the bed together…), and watched as the girl went in circles, face flushed and veins visible along her neck, along with her muscles in her arms tensing and popping out clearly.

She was having inappropriate thoughts again, but was determined to ignore them this time. Except, Santana wasn't slowing down, and only seemed to be working herself up, and then-

Sighing, Rachel got up, took both Santana's hands, led her to bed, pushed her to sit down on it, and straddled her lap. Without a word she wrapped her arms around her girlfriend and pulled her in for a kiss.

They could talk in a bit; right now Santana needed to cool off a little (at least with her anger), and Rachel figured the best way to do that right now was to distract her. Also, it could help distract her from her poor toes…

Not to mention… "Pulling back less than inch, Rachel smirked a little. "You know… Your abuela probably expects us to get rather… sinful in here… We wouldn't want her to be wrong, would be?" A little… passive-aggressive vengeance wasn't always a bad thing, right?

Santana forgot her stinging toes when Rachel sat in her lap. It was pretty hard to remember how angry she was too, especially when Rachel wrapped around her and moved in for a kiss.

Closing her eyes, she kissed her back, venting the passion of her anger into the kiss and quickly feeling her body relax into it, the passion becoming something else entirely. She kissed Rachel for another minute or so, then pulled back, smiling, resting her forehead against Rachel's as a new, devilish gleam comes into her eyes. Turning her head away from Rachel's ear, so she wouldn't shout directly into it, she called out loudly, "ABUELA! Rachel and I are totally being sinful now, so you might wanna avoid walking past in case in infects you too! Maybe you want to get your priest on the phone to bless you through the next hour or so, because the sin is about to get out of control!"

Normally Rachel would scold Santana for doing such a thing, but instead she giggled, tangling her fingers into the girl's thick hair and pulling her in for another kiss.

Oh yes, they w· were definitely going to be 'sinful'…

As she opened her mouth and tilted her head to deepen the kiss, Rachel slowly, but firmly, began to rock her hips against Santana's core, grinding into her more tightly as her skirt was pushed up around her hips leaving only her underwear and Santana's jeans between them.

They hadn't gotten particularly intimate for awhile, due to arguing or being busy. and while Rachel was still very upset at the girl, she had also missed her terribly. Not just the sexual part, but being so close, and having the physical connection. "Show me how sinful you can be, baby," husked Rachel against Santana's lips hotly.

Santana

Giggled too, stifling the noise with her mouth as she kissed Rachel again, moaning faintly with pleasure as Rachel's fingers comb through her hair. She strokes one hand up the back of Rachel's neck, lightly scratching her fingernails into her skin as she sucks the girl's lower lip, then released just long enough to catch her breath.

When Rachel straddles her thigh with only underwear between, Santana's heartbeat quickens, and she can already feel her muscles contracting between her legs in reaction. She puts one hand on Rachel's thigh, rubbing beneath her skirt over her leg and then down her inner thigh between her legs, one finger stroking lightly over her core through the underwear.

"I can be more than sinful, carina…I can be downright filthy."

Instead of trying to stiffle her moans, Rachel purposefully allowed herself to be just as vocal she would have been were she in her soundproofed room as she felt Santana's touch between her legs. She pressed harder into Santana, whimpering into the kiss as her hips searched out firmer contact, and one of her hands scratched down Santana's neck to her chest, slipping under her shirt easily and squeezing the firm breast over the bra.

"You said your abuela touched your things," she breathed out, nipping at Santana's tongue lightly. "I bet she'd never touch anything again if we defiled each and every surface…"

Rachel pressed her mouth against Santana's neck, her breath hot against the flushed skin. "You could do me against the doors, bend me over your desk… The whole room would just reak of sin, Santana… It'd have you and me _all over it_. _Us_."

She Knew Rachel was way more creative sexually than she would have predicted even a month or two ago, but these new suggestions were enough for Santana's eyes to grow wide with surprise and vivid interest, and she grinned, pulling her in still closer to her chest.

As Rachel cupped her breast, then continued to kiss down her neck, Santana was already almost panting with anticipation and the vivid imagery she was creating in her thoughts. Flopping back onto her back and pulling Rachel down with her, so the girl was sprawled over her chest, she kissed her way down her jaw and neck, pushing up her shirt and moving to kiss up her abdomen as well, down the center of her torso towards her breasts, barely pausing to speak.

"Bed. Floor. Desk. Dresser. Closet. Bathroom…"

Turning over, taking Santana with her, so that she was on her back and Santana over her to allow the girl more access as she removed her shirt completely, wrapping her legs around Santana's hips and bit her lip, whimpering and arching her back up into her girlfriend's body.

"God yes…" she murmured, one hand curling into the sheets of the bed as the other went back to Santana's hair, scratching lightly at the girl's scalp as she closed her eyes and let the words and sensations wash over her.

She tightened her legs around Santana, trying to bring her closer still as she rolled her hips up, the seam of Santana's jeans causing just the right amount of friction against her hot, dampening core to make her whole body shudder.

There was too much Santana wanted to do all at once, and she needed about six extra arms to do it as fast as she wanted. She needed to keep kissing Rachel everywhere there was skin for her to kiss, she needed to suck the skin of her breasts and belly and lick every inch of her just to determine where she tasted best. She needed to take off her own clothes, especially her jeans, to have less in between them, to have NOTHING in between them now.

But all she could seem to do is pull Rachel's nearly nude form more closely against her, her hand slipping beneath her underwear to gently caress her outer lips, before slipping first one finger, then two fingers inside, stroking her walls. She continues to kiss her mouth as she touches her, using her tongue briefly at first, then more heavily.

· Rachel gasped as Santana's fingers entered her, Her grip on Santana tensed for a moment, legs tightening all the more, and she had never been more grateful for dance and its side-effects of stretching her hymen out as she was now.

The stinging wasn't as bad as she thought it would be, and the kissing was serving as an excellent distraction. As Santana's fingers moved slowly inside of her, the dull throb of pain quickly began to be replaced with a completely _different _kind of throb, and the heat in the pit of her stomach was beginning to curl tightly in record time. "Oh- Oh God-" she moaned, barely able to breathe, much less kiss Santana back the way she wanted to.

Some faraway part of her said that it was stupid for this to happen when her and Santana were essentially both being vindictive towards the girl's grandmother, but in all honesty, right then, Rachel didn't care.

"I love you," she breathed out, now full committed to feeling everything Santana was giving her. "Oh- Oh _God_." Rachel hid her face against Santana's shoulder, kissing and nipping the skin of the girl's neck inbetween breaths as she panted hotly, her hands having gone to the girl's back and nails scratching lightly up and down it under the shirt.

Santana continues to Rain kisses on every bit of Rachel's skin she can reach, pressing her lips to her cheek, forehead, nose, and mouth, then the side of her head and the exposed skin of her shoulders and upper arm. One hand rubs up and down Rachel's back, slow, soothing circles as she seeks to distract her from any pain or discomfort she is feeling.

The action was instinct, seeming the natural next step, and when Rachel didn't stop her, she certainly wasn't about to stop herself. She gives the girl time to adjust to her fingers, then slowly slides them out, against stimulating her outer lips before slipping them back in, providing a bit more pressure to her touch this time. She groans softly when Rachel strokes her back, kissing her neck, and she whispers back to her, meaning it sincerely, "I love you."

She was getting so close so quickly, and she couldn't stop it. Between not having been this close in awhile (again), and the entirely new sensations, she could feel her inner muscles starting to contract around Santana's fingers, and they had barely even started.

So Rachel tried to distract herself, right hand shifting under Santana's shirt to find her breast again, and slipping under the bra so that she could hold the firm mound in her hand, squeezing it for a moment before find the nipple and pinching it, rolling it between her thumb and finger as she continued to attack Santana's own neck and rock her hips up into Santana's steady strokes.

Little whimpers and moans of pleasure continued to escape her lips, and her face was flush, along with the rest of her skin, and already a thin layer of sweat was beginning to glisten over her forehead and neck.

Santana continues to kiss Rachel periodically, now making her way down her chest when she is able to, coordinating her kissing of Rachel with Rachel's kissing of her so they are taking turns, both administering to the other in equal parts. Santana's hand rubs over Rachel's backside, sliding down beneath her underwear and squeezing as her other hand continues to gently rub inside her. She finds Rachel's clitoris and touches her fingertip to it, very lightly at first, then with a bit more pressure, feeling Rachel clinch around her.

This is incredibly hot…

It's the continuous pressure on her clit that finally does her in.

She was already feeling a little crazy with the hand on her ass, but as Santana's fingertips pass her over clit, once, twice, and with more pressure, Rachel's climax sweeps over her.

The hand on Santana's tit slides down to dig her nails into the girl's side, as the other scratches into the cheerleader's back. Her whole body tenses abruptly, then absolutely _shakes _with the force of her release as she's brought to vocal, incoherent sounds that mostly just sound like attempts to say Santana's name.

White explodes behind her eyelids, and Rachel's head is absolutely swimming with the levels of pleasurable sensations flooding her system as she holds Santana as close she can possibly can, drawing Santana's mouth to her own on pure instinct and kissing her deeply, needing that last bit of connections between them.

When she feels Rachel finally reach orgasm, Santana almost beams, the shaky happiness that settles over Rachel noticeably affecting her as well. She slowly removes her hands from inside Rachel's underwear, sweeping sticky fingers up her sides and lightly skimming her ribs before wrapping her arms around her fully, hugging her to her hard. She kisses Rachel back with just as much need as Rachel shows her, feeling the girl's heart beating wildly against hers, and she feels very much alive then, very much present in the moment and with Rachel.

When she finally pulls back, lying over Rachel's body, she relaxes, arms still around her, and listens to her breathing, still staggered and not quite composed. She loves knowing she can do that to her. She whispers somewhat raspily, "Wasn't bad, right? Didn't hurt much?"

Smiling, almost stupidly, eyes still glazed over from her orgasm-induced daze, Rachel hums into Santana, curling up into her body as much as her body will allow, although moving in general seems alike a lot of work…

"S'was nice," she mumbled happily, closing her eyes as her breathing finally starts to regulate itself. "_Really _nice…" Part of her still wishes it had been at a different time, with different motivation, but, still. She didn't regret it. And they could definitely do it again now. As much as they wanted for whatever reason they wanted. Rachel wasn't about to let go of this fantastic afterglow just because their timing wasn't perfect.

"Gimme a moment," she said with a small yawn. "Then I wanna use my mouth on you…" Another small yawn, and Rachel rolled Santana onto her back weakly, practically flopping down half a top of the girl and snuggling into her side, the goofy smile still on her lips.

Santana lets Rachel Manipulate her body to lie back as she wishes, wrapping a loose, lazy arm around her waist as Rachel settles into her. She kisses the top of her head, enjoying the warmth and closeness of her body and hooking one leg over Rachel's to pull her that much nearer.

"K," she murmurs, barely listening to Rachel's promise, as her fingers lightly trace patterns on Rachel's back. Her breathing is not yet entirely slowed, and she blows a strand of Rachel's hair off her face as she half closes her eyes. She is so relaxed right now, feeling so good she can hardly move.

Author note: Next chapter will lead into really addressing Santana's eating disorder


	38. Chapter 38

Facebook status exchanges

Santana Lopez: I swear if someone seriously made me sick I'm killing them in a slow painful way. And I do mean painful.

Rachel: Do I need to bring you soup? I can even have my dad make it with chicken for you. I can also bring tea. And myself. What are your symptoms?

Santana: (an hour later) mmmmmmmph blehhhh kill people

Rachel: Okay. I'm coming over. And no killing. That's illegal. And you shouldn't strain your body when sick.

Santana: i dont care kill themmmm

Rachel: Santana.. did you take medication…? what did you take…?

Santana: yeah…stuff

Rachel: What sort of stuff, sweetie? How many?

Santana: ambien like two

Rachel: Why would you take a sleep pill, Santana? Nevermind. I'll be over soon, okay? Just… don't move. Is your mother home?

Santana: cuz i wanna sleep other stuffs nasty got calories probbly too

texts

Rachel: Hello, Brittany. I'm trying to help Santana, but I may need your help. She seems rather out of it. I'll text you if I need back up. Is that alright? Would you like me to keep you updated on her condition?

Brittany: Yeah, I keep me updated. Make sure she doesn't die or kill anyone or die while killing someone. And give her a hug for me, my hugs are the best at making people feel better.

Rachel: She has a cold. Or something like it. Her mother and I are going to try and get her to eat and drink something, then sleep.

Rachel: Somehow I'm not surprised that she whines a lot when sick.

Brittany: Poor thing. Sometimes that can be difficult, especially considering she wants to murder.

Brittany: If she has a fever, the whining will only get worse.

Rachel: She does, indeed, have a slight fever. She can't decide if she wants ten blankets or none.

Brittany: Just leave the pile next to her and she'll throw it off and on whenever she wants. Unless she wants you to do it, because that's possible.

Rachel: This is probably the neediest I've ever seen her. It's actually sort of cute. It would be more cute were her nose not running. But the magic had to be broken eventually.

Brittany: Who isn't needy when they're sick? It's just strange because Santana never wants anything from anyone ever. Just make her blow her nose and then the magic is back.

Rachel: I'll be sure to do that. And yes. I really can't say much on it considering I'm really not any better when sick.

Facebook status exchanges

Santana: Mami and Rachel are mean to me I don't like them anymore :(

Tina: Um… are you alright

Santana: Mami keeps rolling her eyes at me and Rachel won't cuddle or touch me without gloves…they're MEANNN

Tina: I don't think they are trying to be mean, Santana… maybe you need some sleep

Santana: I can't sleep when I'm hot and no one will cuddle me!

Tina: Yeah I can't really help you with that.. but um how about a cool bath?

Santana: i don't wanna get up and abuela will yell at meeee

Tina: Why would your grandmother yell at you if you aren't feeling well.. I think you are just confused. Who is the with you now?

Santana: cuz rachel will see me naked and she hates us cuz we're sinners and she already took all my girl pictures that had clothes on…shes being mean to me too. everyone is being mean!

Tina: Wait! What? She hates you? That's ridiculous grandmothers don't hate their grandchildren, what's her problem. Who isn't a sinner, even saints were once sinners. Just don't pay attention to your grandma she obviously just has her own issues. Just relax and stay calm. Do you want me to call Rachel or Brittany or something

Santana: yeah she hates me she sprays stuff everywhere and says im not her granddaughter anymore and she wont even come out of her room bc she prbly thinks i have aids or something…rachels already here but she keeps talking to mami adn she has stupid mask on so she wont kiss me and she just keeps saying go to sleep and eat stuff when i dont want to and brittany wont come see me until tomorrow bc she doesnt like rachel so everyone is MEAN and this medicine stuff is nasty and makes my head feel weird and its probly gona make me fat

Tina: Well forget her she sounds like an ass…. sorry. Just try not to think about her because she sounds crazy and eventually she will wake up and realized she mistreated you and will hate herself for it. If she thinks you have aids because you have a girlfriend than she really is crazy. Maybe you do just need to go to sleep. Get some rest. Yes and eat food and take your meds or you will be sick forever. Also, listen Cheerleader, you are not going to get fat. At this point with all the crap Coach Sylvester has you doing your metabolism has to be out of this world. You'll be fine.

Santana: i don't believe you…you don't even like me

Tina: Well you aren't my favorite person in the world, but that's because you treat me like I'm some gunk on the bottom of your shoe… but I'm not lying. You could probably stand to gain a pound or two but with how active you are that isn't likely to happen. You shouldn't be worrying about that anyway..you should be trying to get better, Cheerleader

Santana: never gonna be better, im dyingggg

Tina: Don't be so dramatic. You just need some rest and TLC which I'm sure you are getting though you claim everyone is mean. Take your medicine and sleep, Santana

Santana: you're mean too

Tina: Oh my God, you are such a baby when you're sick...Fine.. I'm sorry … Okay? Happy? Now go get some rest or something

Santana: i am not…i dont like you. not gonna talk to you anymore

Tina: Yeah, you are. That's not news to me but, fine whatever I don't care

Santana: i am not…im gonna kick your ass go all way lima heights

Tina: Yes you totally are. And excuse me for trying to be friendly toward you… I won't that mistake again

Santana: im telling brittany your mean then she wont like you anymore

Tina: What is your problem? I haven't done anything to you. Tell whoever you want whatever you want. I'm not playing this game. Go to sleep.

Santana: im telling her before i sleep

Brittany: I can read it myself, Sanny...Tina isn't being mean to you, calm down.

Santana: yes she issssss!

Brittany: Shh, no she's not...I can come take care of you, if you'd like, since you took care of me. Also, don't kill people because that's no fun.

Santana: yesitissss

Brittany: Um, nooo, Santana. Think about their families.

Santana: theymademesickkk

Brittany: …That's no excuse for murdering a person. Someone made me sick, but I didn't murder them.

Santana: brittanyyyy stopbeingmeantome

Brittany: Santanaaaaaa I don't know why you think I'm being mean.

Santana: wont let me kill… gonnasleep then kill…no gonna killthensleep or…somethingidk

Brittany: I'm saving you from a life of prison. I'm being an incredibly nice person. How about you sleep and when you're not sick, then you can think about if you really want to kill this person.

Santana: yessss iwanna

Brittany: I don't think you really want to, I think you're just sick.

Santana: i do tooooo

Brittany: I don't think you do. I think you need to nap.

88

**Texts**

Santana: no ones heretocuddle me…im all aloneeee

Brittany: Rachel's gonna take care of you so I'm sure she'll possibly cuddle with you. Tomorrow after school I'll come see you, okay?

Santana: im dyingggggg and no ones hereeeeee….its HOT

Brittany: Shush, you're not dying.

Santana: yes i ammm and rachels gonna be mean

Brittany: No you're not. Rachel's not going to be mean, she's gonna make you feel better.

Santana: yes she isss she's gonna be all ewwwwgerms

Brittany: No she isn't. I think if she was going to be like that she wouldn't even show up.

Santana: you think shes notshwoingup….no i want her to!

Brittany: She is going to show up. She wouldn't let you lay there alone and sick.

Santana: you should come too…

Brittany: Tomorrow I'll come see you

Santana: i wanna seeyou nowww

**Santana:** i want someone to cuddle me

**Santana:** but they cant make me hot

**Brittany:** I'm more than willing to come cuddle if you want me to.

**Santana:** rachel might get mad at me tho :(

**Brittany:** We cuddle all the time, does she get mad then?

**Santana:** idk, I don't tell her

**Santana:** then she'll realllly be mad

**Brittany:** .. Then I guess cuddling isn't happening.

**Santana:** nooooo I wanna!

**Santana:** um...tell her...that my mami wants her

**Brittany:** When she leaves.. if she ever leaves, call me and I'll come over.

**Santana:** I want you both over though...cant you guys just both be nice and stuff...

**Brittany:** Rachel's gonna hog you if I'm over there. We had lunch together, where we were nice. Isn't that good enough?

**Santana:** nooooo

**Santana:** she won't even touch me hardly, she can't hog me...

**Brittany:** It doesn't matter, she'll do it because I'm there and you know it.

**Santana:** tell her she won't cuddle and you will

**Brittany:** I doubt that will work. You said she'd be mad and I don't want to make things worse than they already are. So, when she's gone or whatever, I'll come over and we'll cuddle tons.

**Santana:** :( :(

**Brittany:** Don't be sad

**Santana:** im just gonna sneak out

**Brittany:** Why?

**Santana:** bc im hot and im sick of my bed and I wanna cuddle and im tired of my house

**Brittany:** Santana, you're sick so you have to stay in bed.

**Santana:** ill stayin someone elses bed

**Brittany:** No one is going to let a sick person in their bed.

**Santana:** not even you? :(

**Brittany:** I'd let you come over, but I'm sure you'd be more comfortable in your bed. Kick Rachel out of your room and we'll cuddle for a little bit, okay?

**Santana:** mkay

**88**

This was probably not the most awesome idea in the world. In fact, it was almost certainly a terrible one, and if she wasn't so miserable and doped up on various cold medications, Santana would never have gone through with it. But Brittany wants to come over to cuddle her, to try to make her feel better, and that's exactly what Santana's wanted from the second she started to feel sick. Her mother had little patience for her dramatics, seeming to actually find her amusing at times, and though Rachel was attentive, she also wore gloves and a face mask and in general wouldn't get too close to her, let alone touch her any more than necessary. Although it was hardly true, Santana felt like everyone was being totally without understanding towards how bad she felt, and by the time Brittany made her suggestion of ignoring how Rachel might feel by letting her come over, she was barely even able to stay awake.

Waiting for Brittany to show up, she lay in bed, sniffling and feverish, her temples throbbing dully as she repeatedly kicked the covers off, then pulled them back on again. She had asked Rachel one more time to kiss her and when the girl started talking about germs and her voice she had told her to get out then and leave her alone, that she didn't want any more medicine or food or water, in a rather grouchy tone. She hadn't worked out how she was going to explain any of this to Rachel, but maybe she'd just let Brittany handle that part.

The whole drive to the Lopez home, Brittany thought about how exactly she was going to get past everyone to get to Santana; Maribel was a talker at times, and Rachel, she was bound to question her every move. Brittany didn't really like the fact that she and Santana had to hide their cuddles, it wasn't anything to be secretive over, but Santana was worried Rachel would be mad. Part of her didn't even want to show up because she was worried that Rachel would find out and everything would end up being worse than it already was.

Brittany walked up to the front door of the home and let herself in, hollering Maribel's name. Santana's mom seemed to be quite fond of her, which was going to be good in this kind of situation. When the short lady hugged her, she whispered in her ear to keep Rachel busy for a little while. She explained that she wanted to help Santana feel better without Rachel being right on top of them; she got a quick thumbs up from Maribel before she took Rachel into the living room. It was obvious that Rachel was confused as to why Brittany was even there in the first place, but Brittany ignored the look on the girl's face and walked down the hall to Santana's room. The blonde knocked lightly on the door as she opened it. "Are you alive? Because I'm not in the mood to cuddle a dead person." She closed the door behind her.

Santana lifted her head, eyes slitted barely open as she looked towards Brittany, half sitting up and coughing at the movement. Her hair is in her face but she doesn't try to push it back, and at the moment she is hot again so tries to kick off her blankets without having to use her arms to do it. Sniffling and giving a feeble swipe at her nose with the back of her hand, ignoring the tissues on her nightstand, she reaches out one arm to Brittany, her voice scratchy and rather pathetic even to her own ears.

"Barely…I feel deadddddd but I'm still coughing even though I can hardly breathe….I hurt all overrrr…."

Brittany walked over to the bed and sat on the edge looking back at Santana. "Good thing I'm in the mood for cuddling with a barely alive person then." Brittany gave her smile before lying down next to her. "Have you taken any medicine, like something that'll help with your hurting all over? Also, have they been keeping hydrated, because my mom said that if you don't keep hydrated you'll have to go to the hospital." Even though she knew Maribel and Rachel were taking care of her, she still worried that they weren't taking care of her enough.

"Yeahhh but I don't like it, it's nasty and it makes my head hurt and feel fuzzy," Santana mumbled, easing herself back down slowly. She nods in response to Brittany's question about keeping hydrated, though this isn't strictly true. Although her mother checked on her regularly and made her sip at a drink each time she came in, she didn't bother to drink on her own because that would make her have to pee, and then she'd have to get up, and only bad things could come of that.

Scooting in closer, she wrapped her arms around Brittany, burying her face into her and sniffling again as she pressed her legs over Brittany's. Mumbling into her, she says, "You're not as hot as me….yay…"

"You have to take it; it'll make you better, even if you don't like it." Telling Santana what to do was making her feel sort of like a mom. "You should nibble on crackers and stuff because that'll probably help." She tried slipping in the food thing, hoping that maybe Santana was so out of it she'd actually eat something since that was a big issue.

Brittany rubbed her hand up and down Santana's back and sighed, she sometimes missed taking care of Santana when she was like this. "Well, you're welcome that I'm not." Her mom had always told her that she was colder because she was a winter baby, she wasn't entire sure if that was true or not.

"Mmmph. No. Stay. Here," Santana mumbled into Brittany's shoulder, sighing out into the material of her shirt. She wrapped her arms more closely around her, as though to anchor Brittany close where she couldn't get up and try to get anything for her. She shook her head very slightly and sighed again, more slowly and peacefully this time.

As Brittany rubbed her back, Santana relaxed, eyes closed. She felt as though her hot skin was soaking up Brittany's cool, spreading it throughout her self, and she muttered as much to her. "Taking your cold away. Mmm."

Brittany could only think about how awful Santana felt right now, she was sick as could be and her girlfriend wouldn't even lay with her because she was afraid of germs or something. She was sure Santana probably would've loved to have Rachel lay with her, but was going for second best and surprisingly didn't upset her as much as it would've a month or two ago. Santana still had hair stuck to her face, so Brittany gently pushed it off. "Are you sure you don't need anything?"

"As long as it makes you feel better, take all you want." The blonde wanted to do anything to make her feel better since she did the same thing for her just weeks ago. Santana's hot skin felt good anyways, she was rather chilly.

Santana just barely shook her head again in response to Brittany's question, eyes still closed. Her breathing is congested, snuffly, but slower now, her heartbeat slowing down as well. Brittany's arms around her, stroking her hair back from her face, is very comforting for her, and her cool skin against her own feverish face and arms is making her feel a little more clearheaded as well.

"You're the best Britt Britt ever," she whispered, fingers digging slightly into Brittany's back as she grips the material of her shirt. "Feels better."

88

Texts

**Rachel:** I'm glad you're feeling better. I... I'm sorry I wasn't good enough to take care of you. I'll see you after school. Or something...

**Santana:** what do you mean not good enough?

**Rachel:** You know exactly what I mean, Santana...

**Santana:** no I don't. you were there a lot

**Rachel:** Maybe, but it wasn't enough. I wasn't doing anything right. If I had been, you wouldn't have needed Brittany like you did. And I understand. I'm not trying to start a fight or anything.

**Santana:** ...oh

**Santana:** that

**Santana:** I'm not trying to make you feel bad or anything...I didn't even want you to know but I was sorta out of it

**Rachel:** As I said, I understand. I don't... I really don't have any experience taking care of someone. So it was for the best that Brittany was there. She knows you best, after all. And as probably cared for you before.

**Santana:** yeah...I mean, she knows what I'm like...I'm kind of, like, Snixx times ten when I'm sick

**Santana:** but you being there anyway was cool of you

**Rachel:** Yes, well... Caring for other people is apparently not something I'm cut out for. So I apologize for that...

**Santana:** it's alright

**Santana:** mami gets annoyed with me too so it's whatever

**Santana:** papi won't even come around unless mami makes him and he's a friggin doctor

**Rachel:** But I'm girlfriend... I'm supposed to be able to do these things without being stupid about it...

**Santana:** yeah but you're Rachel and you're a huge germphobe

**Santana:** I mean I wanted you to do stuff and i know i probably bitched your ear off but it's ok

**Rachel:** I... I can't afford to get sick. It could seriously damage of my vocal chords. And that's... That's really just me being selfish...

**Santana:** it was just like the flu, no one has seriously damaged vocal chords permanently from that

**Rachel:** Coughing is horrible for your throat, and what if my tonsils got infected? That would be even worse. Any damage, even a little, could completely change my voice.

**Santana:** yeah ok paranoid central. whatever, i'm better now, just tired

**Rachel:** I'm not- Just. Alright.

**Rachel:** I'm glad you're feeling better. I was worried while you were sick, and I missed being able to talk to you without getting yelled at.

**Santana:** yeah. sorry. so...you still afraid to touch me or...

**Rachel:** No! I mean. No. No I'm not.

**Santana:** ...so you will touch me?

**Santana:** because i'm really sore...I had practice today and Sue totally worked me over. I think she figured out I didn't have heart surgery

**Santana:** idk how i actually lost weight though, i was totally expecting to have gained at least five pounds just laying on my ass like that

**Rachel:** If you're asking for a massage, I would be happy to give you one, yes.

**Rachel:** Heart...surgery...? And, Santana, you were barely able to eat anything. Of course you lost weight. You probably need to gain 5lb just be somewhat healthy, honestly.

**Santana:** yes :)

**Santana:** Brittany told her I was dying and needed heart surgery...so yeah if she asks you, that was totally what happened

**Santana:** like hell I do, ugh don't jinx

**Rachel:** I'll be right over then.

**Rachel:** And... alright... I'm surprised she didn't corner me today, actually, now that I think about it.

**Santana:** Sue? yeah if she did, put on your sad face and say how i almost died

**Santana:** not that it stopped her from being dragon bitch today

**Rachel:** My sad face and terrified face are sort of the same, right...?

**Rachel:** I'm on my way now. I have massage oils as well. They're very relaxing.

**Santana:** no baby, kinda not

**Santana:** ooooh see this is the stuff

**Santana:** wait why do you have massage oils again?

**Rachel:** Oh... Because usually when she starts yelling at me with her megaphone it's my terrified face that happens...

**Rachel:** I... may have bought them before you got sick, hoping to... I was sort of planning a special night for you, because I know how hard Cheerios is and how stressed out you've been lately. But then you got sick and I got paranoid and... Yeah. It didn't work out the way I was hoping...

**Santana:** well terrified will do

**Santana:** awwww really? that's so awesome

**Santana:** bring it bring it :)

**Rachel:** In the car now. I'll see you soon, dear.

**Rachel:** I love you.

**Santana:** i'll just go make abuela's bed with my sick sheets and maybe then she'll stay bedridden and forget i exist or something

**Santana:** kidding...ish

**Santana:** yays hurry

88

Rachel softly closed Santana's door, swallowing thickly as she remembered how obvious the girl's hips and ribs had been under her touch, how, despite firm muscle, all she could focus on was how _small _Santana had become. Sure, the girl's frame had always been small, much like her own, but Santana had never, to her knowledge, been so… seemingly _breakable_. She had always been all tight and tone muscle, with light padding in all the right places and a presence that could strike fear into the hearts of the McKinley students with as Rachel had massaged her girlfriend, she couldn't help but realize that, as perfect as everything seemed, nothing was perfect at , whether she realized it or not, was slowly killing herself, and none of Rachel's subtle attempts at getting the girl to eat or talk were helping. She was realizing that this wasn't something she could do on her own. There just wasn't any needed help.

_Santana _needed help, and even if it meant Santana breaking up with her and never speaking to her ever again, Rachel was going to make sure she got , she had enjoyed the few hours together as much as she could, whispering to Santana how beautiful she was, how much she loved her, running her hands over tight muscles and taking her time in working out each and every strain or knot she could find. It felt like some sort of goodbye, honestly. Because Rachel knew, without a doubt, that after she did what she was about to, she was going to lose Santana. What she had with the , at least Santana would be alive. She could with Santana hating her forever, if it meant Santana would be healthy and breathing…

Taking a deep breath, reassuring herself that this was necessary, and no time to be selfish, she made her way down to the kitchen, where she knew Maribel would be, probably having tea before slowly, Rachel knocked on the side of the kitchen entrance, giving the older woman a small smile.

"Um, good evening Maribel. I… I need to speak to you about… About Santana. I know it's late, but it's very important," she said quietly, just loud enough for Maribel to hear, but quiet enough so as not to disturb anyone else in the was no going back.

At the table in a silk dressing robe, matching slippers on her feet, her hair loose down her back, Maribel looked up as she heard Rachel approach, expecting Santana to follow on her heels. Seeing that the girl is alone, she smiles at her, setting down her cup, but becomes concerned even before Rachel speaks when she sees her expression. She has come to know and be fond of her daughter's girlfriend, during her time spent with her during Santana's "invalid" period, and she recognizes apprehension and worry in her eyes when she sees it by is very different from her daughter, in her demeanor and appearance, certainly in her attitude, but the differences are ones that she believes will nevertheless work well with and benefit Santana, and she knows at the least that this girl can give her back as good as she gets and not let Santana dominate her like she might others. In some ways Maribel suspects they are much more similar than either of them even realize.

"Hello, Rachel," she greets her with a nod. "Something about Santana?" her mouth tips into a wry smile. "I thought she was feeling better, is she still milking this out past what it's worth?"

But although her tone is light she has stopped drinking and is giving Rachel her full attention.

Were she being honest, Rachel hadn't- Well, no, she had thought about how to approach this and what to say so many times she's lost sleep over it. But now that she's here, standing in front of the woman that, despite Santana's protests, she's come to be very fond of, and is positive that Maribel truly does care about her daughter's health and happiness, she's completely terrified and at a loss as to what to say.

"I… Santana is…" Her throat feels tight, and she swallows thickly, feeling tears starting to well up at the corners of her eyes."Santana's not eating," she finally gets out, voice cracking. "And when she does, she throws it back up the second she can… I know I should have told someone sooner, but I thought I could help her, and I can't. Maribel, I can't help her at all."

She starts to sob, a hand flying to cover her mouth and stifle the sobs as she tries to reign herself in.

"She- she starves herself, and she- she told me she hated that I was smaller than her. She wants to lose- she wants to- And I don't know what to do anymore…"

Breaking down, Rachel wraps her arms tightly around herself, all the stress and emotions that she's been holding inside since she found out about Santana's eating disorder finally breaking through completely, and she knows she shouldn't be crying because this isn't about her, but it IS about Santana, and she _loves_ she can't get the image of Santana lying in a hospital bed, pale, skin and bones, as her body struggles to stay alive, out of her head. She hasn't been able to for awhile, and it's all coming out now as her knees almost buckle and she lets out another strangled sob.

For a few moments, after Rachel's initial words, Maribel just stares at her, hearing and understanding, but not quite wanting to believe what she is being told. As her features tighten, and she feels her heart compress with her slowly dawning reaction, she touches her mug, tightening her fingers around it until they wasn't one to believe in sins of the fathers visiting themselves upon children, but now she cannot help but wonder. Had she somehow transmitted to Santana her own struggles, from when she was Santana's age and slightly older? Had she not done enough to make her feel comfortable and right within her body, had she not done enough to make sure she knew that she was beautiful and talented and wonderful exactly as she was? How long had this been going on, and how was it that Maribel, of all people, had not seen?

She has no verbal response that she can come up with, but when she hears Rachel beginning to cry, then sees the girl stumble, almost fall, she is brought back into the present and the immediate events occurring around her. Taking a deep breath, she reaches to lay a hand on Rachel's arm, gently tugging her down to the chair next to her to sit, and then, with another breath in and out, slowly strokes the girl's arm and shoulder before taking her hand in hers and squeezing. "

Rachel…has this been recent or…do you know how long she's been…"

Managing to get some control back, squeezing Maribel's hand like some sort of life-line, Rachel shakes her head, tears still streaming down her face. "I- I don't k-know. B-before we stated dating. Pro- probably since high school? I- I'm positive it's been at least as long as she's been on Cheerios, but maybe not quite so long. She's…"

She looks up into Maribel's eyes, sniffling and easily on the verge of another break down.

"She's so- she's so _skinny._And- I did research, and if she- She _can't _get smaller than _me_. That's not- She'll-"

A sob cuts her off, and her grip on the older woman's hand tightens.

"I've tried to t-talk to her, and to find ways to help her eat, and- I can't help. I can't do anything. She always yells at me and gets defensive and then we argue and- I'm scared. I'm too scared to- to- and-"

Rachel starts to hyperventilate, barely managing to keep from having a straight on panic attack only because of the various breathing exercises she's been taught for singing.

"I'm sorry. I should have done more, or told someone sooner- or- or something. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Since high school...her daughter was in the eleventh grade now. Her daughter had been a Cheerio since she was in the ninth grade. Was it possible that Maribel could have been oblivious for three years?

Then again, she had been oblivious all her life that Santana was not heterosexual…so it was very, very possible. As grim guilt mingled with her renewed and entirely redirected worry, she tried to think back to herself what she may have missed, what Santana could have been doing to hide so well for so long. It was true she was busy and could get away with rushing out the door saying she would eat on the way or at someone else's home, and she was rarely home for dinner. Santana had always been naturally small, but had she looked smaller lately? Maribel could not be sure, but any weight loss, she would have attributed to stress over coming out, and now to her recent sickness.

She had never forgotten the night that she and Rodrigo had decided to give in and let Santana get breast implants, only five months ago. Maribel had genuinely feared that night that Santana would do something to harm herself if they did not allow for this…and yet she had not followed through nearly as much as she should have. Why? Why had she failed her daughter then?

She had hoped, she supposed, that it would be that simple, that easing her daughter's insecurity over her breasts by allowing her to get implants would be all it would take to make her comfortable and happy with herself. But Maribel of all people should have known this would not be the case. Her daughter had expressed extreme self-hatred that night, towards herself and her body, even made suicidal threats. Afterward Maribel had tried to tell herself that Santana got herself worked up beyond what she really thought or felt when she was upset, that she had been behaving manipulatively to get her way, that once they gave in to her, then everything would be okay. But why, why had she not made absolutely certain this was the case? She had failed her daughter. And now she was depending on another child to bring her the information she should have been aware of years ago, a child who was clearly blaming herself.

Exhaling again, not quite as controlled now, Maribel blinked back her own tears, one hand raising to cover her mouth. She held it there for several minutes, fighting for control, before turning back to Rachel, moving her hand to the girl's back and beginning to rub in a circle.

"Rachel, shhh, carina, shhh….breathe. Breathe…in, and out."

She talked to her softly, trying to calm her, for a few minutes before changing the conversation topic."Rachel…thank you for…for everything you do for Santana. Do not…never blame yourself for her or what she does. You have done all you can and more…if anyone has not, the fault is mine. Thank you."

Eventually, Rachel did calm down, enough to pull herself together a little more and breathe relatively normally. Sniffling, she looked up Maribel, wishing she could be stronger for the woman. After all, Santana was her girlfriend, but she was Maribel's _daughter. _She couldn't even imagine what the woman was feeling right now, but it must certainly be worse than what Rachel was feeling, and she wouldn't wish this pain upon anyone.

"I…" she swallowed, "She's going to hate me, ," Rachel finally said, quietly, voice terrified. "I know she will. But I can't- I can't keep letting her do this to herself." Another wave of tears came, and Rachel tried to blink them back and keep herself from crying more. "She'll hate me, and never trust me again. But I'd rather her be alive so that she can glare at me in the halls and talk about me behind my back. Please let her be okay. Please…" Rachel pleaded, unable to help herself.

For once, she felt her age. She was only a young, teenage girl, and she felt like she'd been hiding a terrible secret for a long time, longer than she actually had. And she'd lose Santana over it, but not completely. Not in the way that death would bring.

Her hand still on Rachel's back, Maribel only half listened to her, still struggling against her own thoughts. She rubbed the girl's back absently, even as she wants, very strongly then to go to Santana and rub her back, to give to her now the extra attention and caring her daughter demanded from her when she was sick but would have far too much pride to ask for any other time. One thing she knew about her daughter was that Santana's pride was as wide and unbudging as Maribel's own, and she would never have asked her mother for help.

"She won't hate you," she said finally, once she had brought herself back again to focus on Rachel. Shifting her eyes to her, she swallowed again, closing her eyes and fighting back the continued tears that kept coming to them, her voice a little thicker than was usual as she continued to struggle. "Eventually she will have to understand. She loves you and she…she will understand. Even perhaps thank you. Maybe not with her mouth…our Santana is not so good with that…but you will know."

She continued to gently rub her hand over Rachel's back, reaching to smooth her bangs back from her face. "Rachel…I will…whatever it takes, we will…we will help her. However…however is needed."

Nodding, pulling herself together a bit more, Rachel straightened up a little, freeing her hands to wipe away her tears, and nodded again. "Thank you," she whispered, voice strained. She reached out then, using the pads of her thumb to wipe some of the tears from Maribel's face. "And- I know Santana is… She's really very stubborn about it, but she does love you. And you're… Please don't blame yourself either… I can tell you really love Santana. I know you do. And you're a _wonderful _mother," she said, voice a little stronger now.

Then she took Maribel's hands in her own this time and squeezed them, trying to reassure her, as well as herself. "I should… I should get back… I mean, if it's okay with you that I stay over tonight? I just… Would like to be happy with her for a little longer." Saying those words led to yet another fresh wave of tears as her heart squeezed tightly.

How long would it be until Santana held her again once Rachel broke the news to her? Would she ever?

Rachel didn't know, but she knew she had to tell Santana that her mother knew tomorrow, after school. So she wanted, needed, this night with her. It would be last night they spent together for awhile, she was sure. Maybe forever.

Maribel simply nodded at Rachel's earnest response to her, knowing and believing that Santana loves her. She knew that Santana could be selfish and self-centered, thoughtless and even deliberately cruel, though she was not sure to what extent. She knew her daughter's flaws, but over it all, she knew her daughter as her nina, her baby girl, and she loved her with all of her heart. She could not comprehend now how she could have let things slip so far out of her grasp or even her attention, but knowing now, it is her mission to make this right.

Rachel told her not to blame herself, but Maribel could not help but do this, though she did not share it with the girl. She also didn't think it appropriate to tell her of her own past, but instead squeezed her hands back, trying to smile at her even through still teary eyes.

"Yes, carina, stay. Please, you are welcome here at any time. Even if Santana says otherwise."

"Thank you, ma'am. Thank you." With that, she stood up, hugging Maribel tightly without warning, and then, with one last earnest thank you, made her way back to Santana's room quickly.

At the door, she wiped her eyes as best she could and swallowed down any more attempts to cry. Then she opened the door, stripped down to her underwear, and crawled under the covers with Santana. The girl was lying on her back, arm out, as though searching for Rachel, and without a second thought Rachel curled up into her side, resting her head on her girlfriend's chest and wrapping her arm tightly around her smaller-than-it-should-be waist.

With one last sniffle, she kissed Santana's jawline, then made herself as comfortable as possible, and closed her eyes, desperately hoping that, when all was said done, this wouldn't be the last time she'd fall asleep in Santana's arms.


	39. Chapter 39

**author notes: Guest: yes, this is still a Pezberry. It's very, very long. Probably close to 100 chapters or so. Santana's eating disorder is far from going to be resolved with a quick fix. However, the derailment of Pezberry temporarily is also going to happen giving the circumstances. If you dislike Santana so strongly I would advise not reading because her behavior is a process of change rather than a sudden one, and she's going to feel some kind of way about Rachel's actions even if they were certainly in her best interest. But Pezberry is not permanently derailed and they will gravitate back as Santana progresses. **

Santana could not seem to calm herself down.

The absolute last thing she had expected out of Rachel was this. She had gone into the auditorium smiling, expecting some sappy song or a makeout session, maybe even taking a nap on the couch together after some cuddle time. Anything but her girlfriend looking her in the eye and telling her that she had not only blabbed Santana's most private, closely hidden secret, the part of her that she hated and kept closest to her chest, but that she had told it to her MOTHER.

Rachel had snuck behind her back and told her mother that she was starving herself, making herself throw up. Rachel had told her mother, and that meant Santana's life as she knew it was over.

Her mom would tell her dad, and her abuela would find out, and she would never have a second's of peace again. They might send her to a hospital or a treatment center, they might force her to eat a million fattening things every meal. They would never leave her alone, and what would they think about her? It was bad enough she was already gay, how could they still accept her with this too?

She barely remembered how she had screamed at Rachel so loudly her throat still ached, how she had barely managed to keep from committing violence against her. She barely remembered Rachel's tortured expression as Santana fled the room, still screaming, and proceeded to pace the lot behind the school, partly hiding, partly because she was in no shape to drive. She could still vaguely taste the sour remnants of bile in her mouth from her brief period leaning behind the dumpster to purge, more involuntarily than usual this time in her agitated state. She barely remembered calling Quinn and Brittany and she definitely didn't remember driving to Quinn's house after. As she stomped towards the back of Quinn's house, parking around back as she had been told, she realized she was shaking all over. Coming to her window and seeing that Quinn had left it open, she hoisted herself up and dropped onto her floor inside, the shaking in her arms more pronounced now.

She wasn't sure why she was here or what she was going to say, but she couldn't go home. Not now.

Quinn jumped when Santana loudly landed in her room, grabbing onto the pillow behind her.

"Holy shit Lopez…you scared me…" Her dark eyes narrowed slightly as she took in her friend's appearance and her features instantly softened as her expression shifted from annoyance to concern. "God…you're shaking…"

Moving quickly, Quinn got off from her bed, going behind Santana and quickly closed her window. Grabbing her Cheerio's jacket that she had thrown over her desk chair, she drapes it over the other girls shoulders, her mind instantly racing at what could have happened. She knew hers and Santana's relationship had been a bit rocky, especially since Quinn had been the one to out her to everybody. But even after all that, and all the cat fights they had had, she was still one of Quinn's closest and oldest friends, and now, seeing her like this? Quinn had half a mind to call Rachel herself and just start screaming at her, but that would be rather pointless not to mention childish considering she had no idea what the fuck had even gone down. Taking in a deep breath, she murmured something to Santana and led her over to her bed, forcing her to sit down.

"Now talk…"

Santana has had time now to simmer down from the overwhelming rage she had initially felt at Rachel's confession, and now what she is experiencing is quickly increasing anxiety, even panic. With her fury beginning to decrease, she finds herself genuinely frightened for the situation she has just found herself in, and she continues to shake even after Quinn has wrapped her jacket around her, unconsciously clutching it closer to her shoulders.

She tries to take in a calming breath and hears her breath whistle unevenly as she puts one hand to her forehead, rubbing at her temples. It dawns on her now that Quinn has no idea what is going on because Quinn, like nearly everyone, doesn't know…yet. The idea of telling Quinn too now seems almost impossibly overwhelming, so instead she makes an obscure and bitter reference.

"She told Mami I'm Heather fucking Duke."

The reference was the bulimic Shannen Doherty character from the old movie Heathers. A dork like Quinn should know it.

As Santana talks, Quinn goes over to her computer chair and rolls it over, dropping down into it so that she can still easily face her friend. She did in fact know exactly who Santana was referencing to, and her eyes narrow slightly again as she runs a hand through her blonde hair, playing with the ends.

Her lips were pressed into a thin line as she tried to think of what to say. In all honesty, she had always suspected that Santana might be into something like that. She had seen her consume huge meals in one sitting yet never gain a single ounce, yet Quinn had to work out daily to keep herself from going back to being Lucy Caboosey, especially after she had had Beth…

Swallowing hard, Quinn leans back in her chair, trying to keep from looking judgmental and after another beat, let out the breath she hadn't realized she had even been holding.

"Well…are you?" She paused and let out another soft sigh, not knowing how this conversation was going to go. "Bulimic, I mean…"

Santana didn't know exactly what it was she had been expecting from Quinn, by way of reaction. A few months ago, definitely a few years ago, the girl might have smirked or shown condescension towards her. Now, she wasn't sure if she expected more Rachel-ish concern or simple calm, factual behavior, nor was she sure what reaction she even wanted, but it was the factual she received.

To say aloud, or even to nod acknowlegment to Quinn's question, seemed as impossible as telling her directly had been earlier. She had never admitted to herself even mentally the harsh, direct truth of it, never labeled herself with the word. Saying the actions versus giving a label seemed different somehow, and it took all her will to reply to her.

"Sort of…I guess…what the hell does it matter, she betrayed me. She swore she wouldn't tell and she'd just help me by herself and look at ths, she's such a fucking liar."

"It matters Santana…" The words leave her mouth before she can even stop them and she sighs softly, this time running both hands through her hair as she tries to figure out what to say next. It was true, what Rachel had done had been a little shady, but at the same time, this was Rachel Berry…what had Santana really expected. She had to have known that Rachel would have told someone, and in her mind, telling Santana's mother had been her idea of helping. She was after all, or at least had been, her girlfriend, and that's the sort of thing girlfriends did…they were always trying to help, to try and fix their partners…lord knows she had done it enough herself when she had still been with Puck.

"I don't…" Quinn paused and gave her head a tiny shake, never looking away from her friend. "I think, that she thought she was helping you…I don't think she was deliberately trying to hurt you San'…" Her voice was soft as she said this. "You know that I've never really been on the whole 'Team Berry' bandwagon like the others…but I know that she loves you…I can see it, the girl can't really hide it…I don't think she realized what would happen if she said something…"

Quinn smiled. It was a small, almost sad sort of smile as she tipped her head to side, recalling how Rachel had been one of the first of the Glee crew who had tried to bring her back when she had slipped into her 'grunge' mode after giving up Beth. How even though she couldn't stand the girl, Quinn had seen how deep down all she wanted to do was help.

"She really loves you San'…I think she just wanted to keep you safe…"

"I don't care!" Santana blurted, shaking her head adamantly. "I don't care, Quinn. She promised. She swore, she said as long as I was trying she wouldn't tell and she'd just HELP me if I was trying and I WAS. I can't help it that I got sick and lost a little weight, I was SICK, I was out of school for three fucking days, it's not my fault. That had NOTHING to do with the fucking Heather Duke thing and that's NOT MY FAULT. It wasn't my fault and she goes and tells Mami…"

Her breathing is beginning to quicken again, her hands beginning to shake, and she clinches them into fists, swallowing several times, the tendons in her neck beginning to become prominent as she tries to calm down. She takes several more breaths before she can continue, trying to keep her voice lower in deference to Quinn's mother being near.

"I don't KNOW what's going to happen. I never went home. I can't. I don't know what they'll do to me. Mami is already up in arms against Abuela every single day, she doesn't need more shit about me, and Abuela already hates every single thing about me now and I don't need her on me over this too, and Papi, he's gonna go all medical on me, what if he tries to stick a tube in me or some shit like that? I don't know what's gonna happen and neither does Rachel and she has NO RIGHT to do this to me, she PROMISED."

When she saw that Santana had started shaking again, Quinn rolled her chair closer. She didn't want to invade the other girl's space by sitting besides her, even though it was her bed. When Santana's voice got louder again, she glanced at her door, half expecting it to burst open and an angry mother to storm in, but nothing happened and she looked back over at the angry Latina. For once, she wasn't too sure what to say to make things right. She knew all to well about disappointing family, but this wasn't exactly like getting knocked up in high school…what Santana was doing, was serious, dangerous even. She knew her friend had to know that deep down.

Maybe she really had been trying to stop…

"You…you can stay here tonight, if you want. My mom goes to church long before I usually leave for school…she'll never even know you were here…I could shoot Rachel a text, just so she knows you're staying with me…I'm sure your mom must have called her wondering why you haven't come home yet…you don't have to go home…."

"At least not tonight." She added, playing with a strand of her hair.

It was tempting, very tempting. But Santana knew her mother, and as afraid as she was to go to her home now, and see what was in store for her, it would be worse, the longer she put it off. She had already ignored three phone calls from her. If she didn't come home at all, her mother might start calling everyone she knew asking after her, maybe even call the police. It could end up even worse.

Sighing, shoulders slumping, she shook her head, running a hand through her hair and exhaling again. "No…I…Mami's been calling me and…I should go back. Just…I really don't want to. Not now…not ever."

Looking up at Quinn, her face is much more vulnerable than she realizes, her tone softer than she wants as she asks her, "How could she do this to me? I was doing okay. I'm not too skinny, I mean, come on, Rachel weighs less than me. I'm FINE.

"She's just worried about you is all…" she said, repeating herself. Her voice was soft and she shifted slightly, her cellphone feeling like it was burning a hold in her jeans. She wanted to text Rachel and start ripping her a new one, but she figured it'd be smarter to wait til at least Santana had left.

"Look, at least shoot your mom a text, and go over to Brittany's…" She knew their bubbly blonde friend always seemed to make Santana feel better. "Get some cuddle time in, calm down and the think about going home…you can't go back when you're like this…"

Taking in another slow, somewhat shaky breath, then releasing it, then repeating, Santana lowered her head, smoothing her hands up and down her thighs to try to stop their trembling. She kept her head down, continuing to pull herself together the best she could, and eventually gave a slow nod in response to Quinn's suggestion. She was right. Brittany was the person to go to now, she was the one who would calm her the most.

Maybe she should have stayed with Brittany. Brittany would never tell on her for anything, no matter what. Brittany didn't push her or expect her to change. If she had stayed with Brittany this never would have happened and she would have eventually stopped wanting Rachel and then she wouldn't have loved Rachel and then this wouldn't hurt so much…

"Okay," she muttered, finally looking up. "Okay I'll…I'll do that."

Quinn could see the wheels turning in her friend's head and knew what she was thinking. Keeping her thoughts to herself, she brushed another strand of blonde hair out from her eyes and let out another sigh, looking around her room. She hated situations like these. She liked the ones that were fixed after a quick cry with some chocolatey goodness and a Brad Pitt movie. Quinn knew suggesting something like that now was out of the question.

It was odd, and she knew on some level, a bit horrible, but Quinn actually felt good that Santana had come to her first. She was sure it was only because she was the closest one from the school and the Latina needed someone to let out some steam too, but Quinn still felt like it had to mean something.

After a few more minutes in silent, she finally looks back up at Santana and tilts her head to the side. "Are you…are you going to be okay?" It was a silly thing to ask, but she was unsure of how else to let her friend know that she cared.

Was she going to be okay?

Santana read into the question a lot more than Quinn probably intended. If this was the girl's subtle way of asking if she was going to commit suicide or something like that, or else her way of shuffling her out the door, well, whatever.

"Yeah," she muttered, wiping a hand over her face slowly and letting out another sigh. She didn't look directly at Quinn as she nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

Sliding off the bed into a standing position, Santana ran her hands through her hair, exhaling again. "I guess I'll…go to Brittany…" for a moment she did look towards Quinn, briefly meeting her eyes. "Q? Thanks.

Quinn nodded slowly, wondering if Santana was in fact going to go over to Brittany's or if this was just her way of shutting her up. When Santana thanked her, it caught her off guard for a moment, before the corners of her mouth slowly turned upwards and she smiled softly. "Of course…I mean, we're friends aren't we? That's what friends do…" She wanted to add that she wished she could do more, but she knew a line like that really wasn't necessary, at least Quinn hoped not.

Shuffling her feet slightly, Quinn let her chair roll back a bit before she stood, up, looking a little sheepish. "So, do we hug it out? I mean normally when we get close like that it's usually to start ripping each other's hair out…" She joked lightly.

Not even giving her friend a chance to respond, she closed the distance between them and wrapped Santana in a hug, giving her a tight but gentle squeeze. "I…I'm really sorry that you're going through this San…" she murmured softly. "If you need to, you can totally crash here if things don't go…" She paused, realizing that she was still holding her and stepped back, flushing slightly. "If your folks get rough on you…you know where the air mattress is here…I'm sure my mom won't mind…I'll just tell her we're cramming for a test or something…she won't question it or anything…"

Santana's lips quirked slightly again as she Regarded the blonde, and she let one shoulder rise and fall in a half shrug. "It's what friends do, huh? Guess I wouldn't know. We never were really great with the friends thing."

Quinn asking if they were going to hug sent a pang through Santana's heart; it reminded her too much of Rachel, who always used to announce to her that she was about to hug her, as though in warning, before she actually did so. A lump rose in her throat as she let Quinn hug her, barely touching her back in response, trying desperately not to let tears come out her eyes before she pulled back, nodding.

"Yeah. Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

This was so weird, this sort of affection that had been between them lately, and it was almost certainly because Santana was so pathetic lately. But whatever, she guessed she'd take what she could get.

88

Santana didn't go to Brittany's; as often as her mother had been calling and as many times as she had ignored her, she knew that she would probably march right over and drag her out by her hair. But she did pull over to the side of the road and call her.

Calls

Brittany: Hello?

**Santana:** (shaky breath) Brittany...Rachel...you know...what I do, with, with food...she told my mom, Brittany!

**Brittany:** Please, just take a few deep breaths. Are you really that mad at Rachel for telling your mom?

**Santana:** (takes a few breaths, but they go shaky as she starts to sob again) I don't want her to know, she's gonna look at me different and she's gonna try to make me eat and what if they send me to a hospital or some treatment place, what if they stick tubes in me or make me leave Cheerios, and abuela is gonna be all over me and they won't understand, no one understands and she TOLD them!

**Brittany:** Santana, no one is going to look at you differently, they aren't going to put you in a hospital or make you leave the Cheerios or anything else. Look, I don't want to make you mad or anything, but I think what Rachel did was good. You need someone to help you realize what you're doing to yourself is good.

**Santana:** No it's not good! It isn't! Mami already is fighting over me all the time and Papi already can hardly even talk to me and Abuela already thinks I'm awful and now they'll think I'm stupid and gross and I don't even want them to look at me, it's not good, it's the awful, it's the worst thing she could have done to me!

**Brittany:** It is a good thing, she's trying to help you. Your abuela is going to think what she's going to think, but your mom and dad aren't going to think your gross or stupid because you're not.

**Santana:** (sniffling, leaning against the door of her car, shaking hair back from face, hunched and balancing phone between shoulder and mouth) Yes they will. Brittany it's not a good thing. You don't understand...I don't wanna stop. They're gonna make me stop and I don't want to. No one understands. I'm not even sick, I'm fine.

**Brittany:** What makes it even worse is that you don't think your sick when you really are. What Rachel did was a good thing and now you'll be healthy again.

**Santana:** No I"m not sick. I'm healthy. I swear I am. (swallowing, pushing back hair from face) I am, I promise.

**Brittany:** You are not healthy Santana. Skipping meals and making yourself throw up is not healthy.

**Santana:** (swallows, after several moments) You drank the stuff Sue used to give us.

**Brittany:** That's different, I use that as a meal replacement. I don't skip meals or make myself throw up.

**Santana:** It is the same thing. It was to control weight...that's the same thing.

**Brittany:** But it wasn't something that took over my life, I wasn't worried about my weight, Sue was.

**Santana:** (sniffling into the phone, trying to figure out what to say, says nothing)

**Brittany:** I hate to see you do this to yourself, so forgive Rachel, and take whatever help you're offered.

**Santana:** She shouldn't have told, Brittany. She should have just...she should have let me deal with things...she should have just...I just don't trust her now.

**Brittany:** I think Rachel is awesome for telling, she was looking out for you. She was being a good girlfriend.

**Santana:** She's not my girlfriend anymore! Why are you on her side?!

**Brittany:** Because for once Rachel did something that wasn't selfish. Rachel's really awesome for doing what she did and it's kind of sucky that you suddenly hate her for it. Even though you don't, you love her. I also think you need to go over to her house and apologize.

**Santana:** Why are you being so mean to me again? (sharp inhalation) You like her better than me too now?

**Brittany:** Santana, I'm not being mean. Just days ago you would've been dying to hear those words come from my mouth. I don't like Rachel more than you, I'm just saying that Rachel's trying to help and for that you should be thankful.

**Santana:** She's going to get me taken off Cheerios! I going to have to have people breathing down my back all the time now!

**Brittany:** Yeah, that sucks, but don't you think your health is more important than cheerleading?

**Santana:** I'm healthy! I got better!

**Brittany:** You can't get better in 5 minutes.

**Santana:** I took three days, you were there!

**Brittany:** Not your fever, Santana. You need help and you're not going to do it on your own, so go thank Rachel. Seriously.

**Santana:** I can't. It's...I can't.

**Brittany:** Yes you can. You just go over to her house and say I'm sorry and thank you.

**Santana:** Brittany...that's not true though. I'm not glad she did this, I wish she hadn't. It messed everything up...I don't like being mad at her and I want to still love her and be with her because it's really, really hard without her but she messed it all up and she's making it where I have to do all the things I don't want to and it's hard.

**Brittany:** Do you really, really love her, though? 'Cause I think if you loved her, you'd understand what she was trying to do and appreciate it. I think if you loved her then you'd go over there and apologize for being mean to her and thank her for her help, even if you didn't want it.

**Santana: (hangs up)**

**88**

It was a good 15 hours later, and Santana still could not believe it. Within a span of two minutes her life as she knew it, for the second time in only a few months, had been blown apart by someone she trusted, her last remaining deep secret laid bare for her family to be exposed to against her will. Rachel Berry had told her mother about her "eating thing," as Santana still called it even to herself. While Santana was sleeping, in her own home, Rachel had gone to her mother and told her. Against all promises, spoken and unspoken, Rachel had betrayed her trust in the worst way Santana could imagine, in a way that cut her more deeply even than any physical or sexual act or betrayal might have done so. Santana could not think of a single thing the girl could have done that would have angered, upset, hurt, or frightened her more than this, and even now she didn't know what at all to do to cope or what she could expect.

How could Rachel do it? Knowing that Santana was trying, knowing the extreme amount of pressure she felt herself to be under through her family every day, just living in the same home as her abuela? How could she tell knowing that Santana had just barely gotten over being sick and her losing just a tiny bit more of weight wasn't even her fault? How could she tell when she was still a perfectly fine weight, when she knew perfectly well that no one was REALLY skinny until they were down to double digits? Santana had trusted Rachel more than anyone else in the world, she has trusted her as much as Brittany, and she had told. She had TOLD.

She didn't remember much about what she had yelled at Rachel, but she did know that they were now obviously broken up. She couldn't' possibly remain together with a girl who would massage her to sleep and tell her how beautiful she was one minute, then run down the hall and break apart her world in the next. Obviously Rachel didn't really love her or care at all, not enough, because there was no way she could really love her and care what happened to her if she would deliberately give her family exactly the kind of information they could use to make Santana's life an even bigger hell.

She was pretty sure she remembered telling her that Brittany would never have done this to her, that Brittany would never tell on her for anything, no matter what. She was also pretty sure she remembered the devastation in Rachel's face and how close to tears she was, but she didn't' care about that, not now, not ever. Not anymore. Rachel deserved it. Rachel had completely destroyed her life, and she deserved it.

How could she go home, knowing what was waiting her there? How could she face off to her mami who would undoubtedly tell her papi who would then send in a whole cavalry to deal with the situation, a situation that Santana was totally in control of and totally wasn't a big deal anyway? Half the Cheerio squad had some kind of issue with eating! Sue Sylvester herself hadn't eaten anything solid in twenty years, she claimed! No one was calling their parents, no one was sticking Sue in the hospital or anything like that! And this would give her abuela one more weapon to use against her, one more point in her favor…

Santana had been so upset she wasn't sure anymore who she had called or what she had texted or what she had posted on her dash, and she quite honestly didn't care. She remembered calling Brittany and sobbing while pacing behind the school, and she remembered going by Quinn's and ranting for a while too, even spilling the beans about the situation that Quinn, until now, had been unaware of. She had called Brittany afterward and shifted from her resentful and infuriated gear to a more vulnerable one that Brittany more than anyone seemed to bring out in her, sobbing her fears to her as she had so many times before. She was afraid of what her family would do with her now, what they would think and how they would see her, but almost as much she was afraid that somehow, some way, they would make her give up the eating thing. What if they could make her do that, what if they could really make her stop when, despite what she told Rachel, she really didn't want to? What if they made her eat and gain weight and she couldn't stop it at all?

She had thrown up twice since her break up with Rachel, though she hadn't eaten much today and it was more dry heaving than anything the second time, but this wasn't her fault either, she was pretty sure of that anyway. It was just that the stress and anger and frequent near hyperventilation of it all was driving her over the edge. She was pretty sure. It wasn't a big deal at all, it wasn't like it was dangerous, and anyway it was better than crying even if she did end up crying anyway. It was.

But as upset as she was and as much as she told herself she hated Rachel, that Rachel was a traitorous bitch who didn't really love her at all, the worst part of it was that Santana knew in her heart that it wasn't actually true. She knew that Rachel loved her and that she still loved Rachel, that Rachel genuinely thought she was doing the right thing, and that was exactly why it hurt so much. Because she was sure Rachel was wrong.

She didn't want to go home that night, even though, looking at her phone, she could see that her mami had called her three times by the time she dragged herself away from Quinn and Brittany's houses. There were no texts from Rachel but she could see from the girl's dash that she was still upset too. Good, she deserved it. By the time she forced herself to go home, sneaking in through the back entrance and heading straight to her room praying that her Mami would leave her be, it was close to two am. She saw the light on in the kitchen and suspected her mother was waiting up for her, but she didn't bother to check. Maribel would see her car in the morning or within the next five minutes and know she was home, and that would have to be good enough.

So Santana lay in her bed, but for most of the night she didn't sleep at all. She was wishing she had stayed at Brittany's house, or even Quinn's, that she had lay with one of them and avoided facing her family for even just one more day. She felt like she could have rested easier cuddling with Brittany or even curling up close against Quinn's back, pretending she wasn't touching her deliberately when they woke up in the morning. When morning came she dawdled deliberately in the shower and dressing, hoping that by the time she came downstairs she could use the excuse of having such little time to prepare for school to run out the door without talking to her mother at all.

As it turned out though, her mother had already thought through a foil for this plan though, because as Santana tried to rush past her in the kitchen, she called out to her, stopping her.

"Santana, you are not going to school for today, you have a doctor's appointment."

"What? I'm not sick anymore," Santana said to her, looking back over her shoulder from where she stood in the kitchen entrance. "I don't need to see a doctor, and I have Cheerios. I'm running late anyway Mami, I've got to go."

But as she turned away again, she heard her mother's voice, calm, but unmistakably firm. "No, Santana, I told you, you have a doctor's appointment this afternoon. I have already booked it and you are going. I have spoken with your school and they understand, and if you are concerned, I have spoken with Ms. Sylvester as well. Apparently she is under the impression that you are having…a check up after your heart surgery? I do not know how she would come to such a conclusion, but I will not question it now. There are other things that we must discuss before your appointment, Santana, so I am asking you to come into the living room and sit down with me now."

Here it was. This was it, this was what she had been dreading from the moment Rachel confessed. Here it was, and her mother seemed determined not to allow her to back away from it. In fact, as Santana stood there, nails slowly digging into her palms, her mother stood, came to grasp hold of her arm, and tugged her into the living room, holding onto her even after she had pulled her to sit beside her on the couch. Though Santana edged away from her, feeling all the muscles of her body tense up, her heart begin to pound with growing anxiety and dread, her mother held onto her arm for a few moments, looking into her face, before removing her hand, instead lightly placing it on her daughter's knee.

"I'm assuming that the fact that you refused to answer the phone last night and did not get in until very late this morning, and are trying to rush out the door from me now, all stems from you having been told by Rachel about our conversation last night," her mother began, lightly squeezing Santana's knee, even rubbing the ball of her thumb gently over its slightly rounded knob. "I am assuming as well that you were not receptive to what she told you and you did not treat her well or respectfully afterward. I can see you do not want to have this conversation, Santana, and I can see you are upset. That is okay. You can be upset and I do not expect you not to be, but we are having this conversation and you are not walking out of it or treating me or anyone else disrespectfully during it. That is what I expect and that is what is going to happen…yes?"

When Santana did not answer her right away, and in fact stared at the wall across from them, jaw tensed, refusing to look at her, she felt her mother's hand slip from her knee to instead cup her face. Turning her face towards her so Santana had to look at her, she held her gaze, her hand gentle, voice low, even as the intensity in her eyes made it clear that she meant business.

"Yes, Santana?"

Santana exhaled, feeling the long, slow breath out shudder slightly through her body, and her throat choked over as she forced herself to nod. When her mother released her face, beginning instead to slowly stroke her fingers through her hair, she had to bite her lip not to let sudden tears come to her eyes.

This was going to be torture.


	40. Chapter 40

Maribel's lips curved into a small smile, but there was no happiness in her eyes as she continued to regard Santana. Removing her hand from her daughter's head, she reached to take Santana's hand instead. When Santana kept her hand stiff, Maribel persisted, entwining her fingers through until Santana was forced to grasp her as well. She squeezed gently, rubbing her thumb over the back of Santana's hand as she spoke to her, her voice quiet.

"Tell me, Santana, how much do you weigh right now?"

So this was how she was doing this. Diving straight in, right to the point. Santana's eyes shifted up and away, and she tried to think of what answer her mother would want to hear, what answer would maybe be acceptable enough to get her off her back. Funny thing was she couldn't remember what was supposedly an average weight for her height, because all she ever focused on was what weight she'd prefer to be.

"Um, I'm not sure," she hedged. "I haven't checked in a while since I've been sick and everything-"

"Santana, you are lying to me," Maribel squeezed her hand a little harder then, keeping her voice quiet, but no longer soft in tone. "I know very well that your weight is engraved into your mind and heart at this very moment and you could not forget it if you tried. Tell me what you weigh, Santana."

Her mother was right. How the hell could she know that, when she could not possibly understand what it was like, when Santana had never even been able to explain it to Brittany or Rachel, let alone her?

Biting down on her lower lip, Santana again redirected her gaze away from her mother, hearing how tight her own voice sounded when she replied.

"108.5…but Mami, that's really not too low. Lots of girls-"

"You are not lots of girls, Santana," Maribel interrupted her, shaking her head. "You are you. You are Santana Veronica Lopez, and you are the only girl I am concerned about in this moment. Just you."

She squeezed Santana's hand, then reached with her other hand so she was holding it with both of hers, cradling it so gently that Santana felt her heart constrict, and she had to swallow hard against a sudden lump rising in her throat. She couldn't stand for her mother to look at her with such concern in her eyes, without anger or judgment or anything else she had feared…just worry, worry and a love that even Santana could not die was there, strong and undiminished by Maribel's fear.

"You are 5'5, Santana, taller than me, taller than Rachel, taller than many girls. But even if you were not it would not matter. Your frame and your muscular structure determines what is the best weight for you and no other. A girl of your build and height should be a minimum of 117 pounds, Santana. I have researched and this is the truth. Up to 130 would still be of ideal weight for you. You are too small now and we will not allow this to go on. I will not allow this to go on."

"Mami, I was SICK, I lost weight because I was SICK," Santana tried next, taking this straw and grappling onto it as strongly as she could manage. "I wasn't trying. You saw me, I was-"

"Mija…mija, are you telling me you were not pleased to lose the weight?" Maribel cut her off again, shaking her head, even as she continued to stroke her thumbs over her daughter's hand. "Are you telling me that you ate well today, that you did not skip any meals or make yourself sick at any point today, even after Rachel upset you? Can you look me in the eye and tell me that without it being a lie?"

And Santana could not. She couldn't, and she knew it, and as her mother sighed, squeezing her hand, she tried to avoid her gaze, feeling her cheeks flood red with embarrassment and shame, her heart begin to thump harder in her chest with her increasing fear at what she was going to hear.

"Santana, it is not the weight that is the true problem here. If that were so then you could simply eat and gain it back and the problem would be resolved. You could weigh twenty pounds more or less than you do now and that would still not fix or change anything at all, because the problem is not your weight. Just as it was not your breasts, this summer."

She sighed, briefly drawing her lips into a thin line and swallowing, and though Santana didn't look back up at her, she could hear a slight thickness, a shift in emotion in her mother's voice.

"I was a fool to allow you to alter your breasts, Santana. The size of your breasts was not your problem and I believe I knew that at heart, but I did not want to believe otherwise and so I did not address the real problem at hand. I am sorry for this, mija, because this was failing you. The problem then was not your breasts, just as the problem now is not your weight. It is not anything about your appearance at all. The problem, Santana, is that you are not only dissatisfied with your appearance, you are dissatisfied with yourself. The problem is how you think and feel about yourself…Santana, the problem is that you do not love yourself. You hate yourself, Santana, and that is what is really going on here. Isn't it?"

Listening to her mother laying this out openly for them both to hear, the deepest truth of herself spoken aloud as Santana had never been able to put words to, she felt her stomach flipping and sloshing sickeningly in response, goosebumps rising over her skin. Santana shook her head, denying, even as her mother corrected her.

"There are no more lies from this point on, Santana. This is true and I know it. I want you to acknowledge this truth to me now, carina. Tell me the truth."

But Santana could not. How could she sit here and say to her mother that she hated herself, that she could not go through a single day without thinking bitterly and with real anguish about some part of herself that she could never seem to change? How could she tell her mother that there had been days where she had genuinely wished she had the courage, or perhaps it was the cowardice, to die?

She couldn't answer, but she felt tears pricking at her eyes, and perhaps her mother saw this, because she released her hand with one of hers and slipped her arm around Santana's shoulders, drawing her in close against her side. Rubbing her hand up and down Santana's upper arm, stroking her fingertips over her shoulder and collarbone, she continued to speak to her quietly.

"I know, mija. You may think that no one can understand, that no one can know your experience, but I do, querida. I do."

She exhaled, the sound a little more uneven than Santana was accustomed to, and she thought she heard stronger emotion in her voice now than when she had started.

"When I was around your age, I was doing what you are doing now. Hating my body, punishing myself for possessing any of what I saw as flaws. I was not a cheerleader but I was a dancer, and I pushed myself to the point of illness, just as you are doing now. I became so unwell I was not menstruating or able to sleep, Santana, and I did not see myself as ill. It took years, years and many incidents of near serious results from this before I began to change the way I think. It was not my appearance that was ever the problem, mija. It was my thoughts."

She was still stroking Santana's arm now, and let her hand drift up to her head, running her fingers through Santana's hair as she breathed in, seeming to steady herself before continuing.

"Perhaps I did not do enough to safeguard my foolishness from being transmitted to you, I do not know. But I am telling you this now, Santana, I do understand. I understand but I will not accept it, and I will do for you what my mother did not do for me, because she did not understand or know. I do and I will not allow you to suffer alone in this. I will not allow you not to change, and I will not allow you to get worse."

Santana bit the inside of her cheeks, feeling tears more strongly standing behind her eyes as she struggled to process what her mother was telling her. She would never have thought that her mother, her confident, still beautiful mother would have felt anywhere near the same, at any point in her life. It seemed nearly impossible, and yet she was telling her that it was true. Still she said nothing as her mother continued to run her fingers through her hair, her voice a low murmur near Santana's ear.

"It will get better, Santana. It will never entirely go away, I will not lie to you and tell you this. All your life you will fight, but you are strong, Santana, so much stronger than I ever was at your age. You are strong and you will be happy. This I know."

"No I'm not," Santana managed, hearing her own voice cracking, and she blinked fiercely, clinching her jaw in her effort to keep back tears. "No, I'm not, Mami, I-"

"You are strong," Maribel spoke over her, a little louder, firmer, as she tightened her arm around her, turning her head to kiss the side of Santana's face. "You are strong and courageous, Santana Veronica, so much more than you realize. You are smart and talented and independent, loving and sweet and loyal, witty and thoughtful and kind, perhaps not every moment of every day, but you are all of these things nevertheless. You are not a perfect person but you are perfectly yourself, and that is a wonderful person to be. And you are beautiful. So very beautiful."

Santana could feel her tears pressing harder now against her eyes, and she lifted both her hands, pressing her palms hard into her eyes in an effort to keep them back, swallowing frequently to try to force them down. But Maribel was still talking, seeming to be trying to wear her down- or maybe just to force her to hear.

"I have loved you even before you were born, mija. You have been the light of my world and the core of my heart from the moment you were a thought in this life and you are the best thing I've ever done, the source of all my pride. Maybe I have not told you this enough. Maybe you do not believe and you do not understand because I have not given you enough times of hearing it, and that is the case I will do whatever it takes to remedy this now. If that is the case, I will tell you every day and I will mean every word of it, every time, until you do believe."

She was still stroking her hair, occasionally kissing her cheek or forehead, and when Santana felt hot tears begin to streak down her face, her shoulders slumping forward and beginning to shake with suppressed sobs, Maribel wiped her tears with her thumb, leaning forward with her, still talking close to her ear.

"You were my perfectly created baby, my smart-mouthed beautiful little girl, and now you're my courageous, stunning daughter who's almost a strong, fierce woman to be reckoned with, my daughter who's gorgeous and amazing inside and out. But I want you to be healthy inside and out too, Santana. That is all I want for you, that is all I ever ask of you. And if I have to tie you up and sit on you to force you to eat to get this…if I have to hold you in my arms and rock you after every meal to make sure you will not feel so bad about yourself that you must do something to yourself after…if I have to follow you to school or feed you with my own hands or put you in a hospital or even cut off my own limbs to make this happen, I will do it, Santana. Because I love you. Because I LOVE you."

This was the final straw for Santana. Hearing her mother speak to her so earnestly, with such fierce love and sincerity in her tone, feeling her hands on her face, was too much, more than she could handle experiencing or feeling then, more than she could take in and still maintain control. She felt as though something were cracking inside her heart as a loud sob broke forth, and she began to weep steadily, with loud, gasping breaths that she could not even attempt to suppress any longer. Her mother's arms around her, loosely supporting her, Santana leaned forward towards her knees, crying out her fear, her pain, but almost as strongly, her relief, even her gratitude towards her, without trying to stem her tears.

For a couple of minutes Maribel simply continued to remain present with her, rubbing her back, stroking her hair, murmuring Spanish endearments in a soft, soothing undertone that Santana barely understood or heard. When it seemed that Santana could not easily stop or begin to settle, she then reached out and gently drew her up from her hunched position, pulling her daughter into her lap and holding her there, cradled against her chest, like she was seven instead of seventeen.

If Santana could have seen herself from the outside, she knew it would have looked ridiculous. She was a good four inches taller than her mother, that she was much too old and large for this. She knew that if her abuela chose to walk in right at that moment, then she would send her a look of such withering disgust and scorn that it would have seared her to the heart of her. But she didn't care in the moment, and neither, clearly, did her mother. She let her mother hold her in her lap and hug her close to her heart, stroking her hair, frequently kissing her head and face, and eventually she could feel her breathing begin to steady on its own, her heartbeat to slow to approximate the rhythm of Maribel's, her tears taper off into occasional sniffs. She let herself relax back against her mother, laying her head on her shoulder, and eventually there remained only the soft noise of their breathing as both of them sat together in silence. Santana knew she should get up, get a tissue, start to fix her makeup and blow her nose, but she didn't want to move. She wanted to stay there, with her mother's arms around her, for as long as she could still feel safe, not just physically, but within her own self, her own body- from herself more than anything else in the world.

Maribel didn't push her to do so. She leaned her head down to Santana's, simply remaining silent, and let her daughter be the first to speak.

"Mami…are you going to tell Papi?"

"I'm going to have to, carina," Maribel replied, running her hand lightly over Santana's face and wiping at drying tears with her thumb. "He does not perhaps say often, but he loves you too, much more than you probably know, and it is his business and concern to know. You can be present or you can let me tell him for you, but either way he will know."

Santana digested this with a slow breath in and out, telling herself that she could endure this, that with her mother in charge of the telling, it would not be so bad. Papi wouldn't yell at her, she was pretty sure…it was the disappointment that would be painful. It was the last person of her family that most concerned her, and she barely managed to get out the words to her next question.

"Mami…abuela, is she…"

"Abuela has no business knowing, commenting on, or having an opinion about someone she cannot accept and love with all of her heart," Maribel answered before she could ask, an edge coming into her voice for the first time, and she squeezed her hand over Santana's shoulder, shaking her head. "Do not worry about Abuela, nina. She is no concern of yours at all."

For several more minutes she held Santana in relative silence, giving them both time to continue to compose, before she eventually nudged her gently off of her lap to sit beside her again, turning to face her directly. Taking both of Santana's hands in hers, she looked her directly in the eye as she began to lay down the law, as she saw it.

"I love you, mija, and that is why there will now be rules. It is not to hurt you or to restrict you or to cause you any harm or stress, but to give you back your life. You cannot manage yourself and your life right now and so I will help you. That is how it must be until you can manage again on your own."

Santana opened her mouth, already disliking the sound of this, but her mother squeezed her hands and shook her head at her, continuing firmly.

"The first is that there will be total honesty between us. No more lies, no more hiding, truth only, understand? I will not be angry, I will not think less of you, but I will know nonetheless what is going on with you because you are my child. That means, Santana, if you make yourself sick, if you skip a meal, I must know it and we will talk. Again, I will not be angry, mija. But I MUST know. Do not underestimate my ability to find out on my own if you do not tell me, but I promise you, it is better if you tell me on your own."

She waited for Santana's reluctant nod, squeezed her hands again, then continued. "You are underweight now. Your minimum weight from this day forward is 115. When you are under that weight, strict measures will be taken to get you back up to it. You are under it now, that means that I will be monitoring you every day to make sure you get back to where you need to be, and that also means no Cheerios until you are back up to it. Do not argue, Santana Veronica," she said as her daughter's jaw dropped again and Santana's eyes grew huge with indignant protest at the thought. "I am already being generous because that weight is two pounds below your minimum ideal. You gain back that weight and you will be allowed to attend Cheerios. The choice is yours."

"Mami-" Santana started, hearing and hating the desperation in her own voice, but her mother wasn't finished.

"You are attending therapy and that is not a choice. You will be eating three meals a day plus two snacks, and you will eat a minimum of 2000 calories without making yourself sick. Again, this is being generous, Santana, a girl of your age and activity level could easily eat up to 2400 and still be perfectly healthy. You are allowed to go to Glee, but again, if you are under 115, there will be no Cheerios. If you stay with Quinn or Brittany for the night, it is only under the understanding that their parents will be informed of your situation and that they will help me be sure that you are eating in their home. If you do not wish for them to know, then that means that sleepovers must take place in our home, because I know and can watch out for you. You will learn to talk about your feelings, to sing them or journal them or anything else that gets them out in a healthy way. You will not take your feelings out on yourself or your body. And if none of this helps, Santana, then you will go to a hospital or a treatment center. This is not an option, any of it. This is how it will be."

Gritting her teeth, nails digging unconsciously into her palms, Santana nodded, hating what she was hearing, but knowing better than to argue. Her mother hugged her again, then released her, searching her eyes.

"I know you do not think it now, but Rachel was right to tell me, Santana. She did this because she loves you."

"Yeah, loves me, really friggin loves me," Santana muttered darkly before she could stop herself, but Maribel's voice intensified as she held her gaze, countering her.

"Yes, Santana, she loves you. Loves you so much she was willing to put her own needs and wants aside for yours, even if it was difficult and painful, even though she knew that you would treat her badly afterward and resent her for doing what she knows to be right. She loves you. You can be angry with her and I understand that, but know that she regardless did the right thing and that one day you will be glad of it. Please, Santana, do not hurt her because you are hurting."

Santana frowned, trying to shift her eyes away, but her mother was still talking.

"You can hurt all you need, mija, and I will be here to help you through it. All of us want to be. You have Quinn and Brittany and the rest of Glee, and you have your papi and me. We will always love you and want what's best for you, and I will always want most for you to be happy and healthy. But first you must be healthy, and if I have to make you unhappy now to make sure you are healthy and happy later, I will do it. Even if it hurts you. But Santana… do not hurt others because you yourself hurt. Especially Rachel. It will not take your hurt away."

She regarded her for a few more minutes, squeezed her hand one last time, before standing, releasing her at last. "I am going to make lunch now, Santana, and I do expect that you will eat it and then sit with me afterward. Then you have a doctor's appointment this afternoon, and he will check to make sure you are physically okay and to advise me on your nutritional requirements. Things will be better, mija. Just remember it is best not to choose to make them worse by throwing away what gifts you have."

And she left her then, thinking of everything that had been said, everything that would now have to change. But mostly, thinking of Rachel.


	41. Chapter 41

Texts:

**Santana: **Thanks to you I don't get to be in Cheerios anymore.

**Rachel:** I'm sorry to hear that, Santana. But it's probably for the best.

**Santana:** It's your fault.

**Rachel:** I'm aware, yes. That's why I apologized. I know how much you enjoy it, and I hope you are able to go back soon.

**Santana:** I would never do this to you.

**Rachel:** That's a lie, Santana. I know you would. When you cared about me, I guarantee that you would have done anything to make sure I was alive and healthy. That's who you are. You protect the people you care about with such ferocity it puts most people to shame.

**Santana:** You're not protecting me. I don't need this and I don't want this.

**Rachel:** I can't protect you from yourself, but your mother can. I know you don't want this, but you do need it. I just wish there'd been a better way for it to happen.

**Santana:** You didn't even TELL ME!

**Rachel:** Considering that you screamed at me for 5 minutes, looked ready to break my nose, and cursed me for another 5 minutes right before breaking up with me loudly and verbally violently just the other day... I'm quite sure I remember telling you very clearly..

**Santana:** BEFORE THAT! You just told her and you didn't even tell me! You just put me to sleep and then told her and you didn't tell me you were going to! You didn't even give me a chance!

**Rachel:** It was a snap decision... Made when I was massaging you.. You just... Santana you were so- I could feel your bones. Clearly. That's all you practically were. You don't know what that's like, to be looking at this girl that I've always considered so strong and physically at peak and suddenly realize that- You looked so /breakable/ Santana. I could have counted your ribs, or traced your hips perfectly. I was- am- terrified. And I had to tell someone. I couldn't- I'm 17, Santana... And you need help from adults. You need adults to take care of you until you're willing to care for yourself...

**Rachel:** In the end I just... realized that I'd rather you be alive to hate me forever, than continue to love me as you slowly kill yourself... Your life is worth more than you trusting me, or being with me.

**Santana:** It's...Rachel, it's not that bad.

**Santana:** I'm only a few pounds under what Mami said I have to be. That's no big deal.

**Santana:** We're almost adults anyway.

**Santana:** I'm not dying. I'm fine.

**Rachel:** Yet. It wasn't that bad, /yet/. You say all these things but you forget the words that matter. A few pounds can be the difference between having to be in a hospital bed connected to feeding tubes and being able to function normally. A few pounds is the difference between being healthy and being in danger of sickness.

**Rachel:** I wasn't even surprised when you got sick, to be honest... Because that's what happens when your body can't function properly. Your immune system drops, and slowly everything starts to go wrong.

**Rachel:** So I'm sorry, Santana. But as I told you the other day, I don't regret what I did. I did what I had to, even if I knew the consequences would not be what I wanted...

**Rachel:** I know you'll get better. I know you'll become healthy, and start enjoying food, and /living/ again. You're strong like that, and the moment you realize that you're barely functioning, and that you deserve and want more than that out of life, you'll grab it with both hands... And you'll be happy someday. I know you will be. And knowing that is more than enough for me. You deserve to love yourself, Santana. If losing you is what it takes to see you truly love who are, then it's worth it.

**Santana:** I'm fine.

**Santana:** I got sick because it's sick season.

**Santana:** Just..Rachel, stop it

**Rachel:** You're not fine, but I know you will be someday. I have to go now. I love you, Santana Lopez. Goodnight.

**Santana:** Do you know what I have to do now?!

**Santana:** Rachel!

**Santana:** Everyone is on YOUR side, even Brittany!

**Santana:** you can't just go off and ignore me!

Calls

**Santana:** (deep breath in, blinking back sudden tears, voice drops) I really hate this. All of this. I hate it so much. What Mami's making me do and not being in Cheerios and I'm scared and it's hard, all the time...and I feel like I hate Rachel but I love her and I miss her and I want to talk to her and tell her how hard it is but I'm so mad at her and I want her to feel bad but it's just so...I don't even know...I love her but I HATE her doing this to me.

**Brittany:** You shouldn't hate her though. I get why you would, but you just have to get it through your head that she was only trying to help you.

**Santana:** It's hard...all of this is really hard.

**Brittany:** I'm sure it is hard, but are you going to let Rachel trying to help ruin your guys' relationship?

**S:** We sort of already broke up

**Brittany:** Go get her back then!

**Santana:** (laughs shakily) Never thought I'd hear those words out your lips, Britt.

**Brittany:** Well, she makes you happy, so..

**Santana:** I don't know what to say to her. I'm not good at sorries. I'm not even sure I really am sorry. I'm sort of not. (sighing, starting to pace room; knock on door, Maribel's voice heard faintly, asking her if she's hiding that she's exercising because she can hear it through the walls. Santana yells back at her in Spanish before returning to Brittany) SEE?!

**Brittany:** Say how you feel- just not in a mean way. [listens to Santana and Maribel] She just cares and worries about you, Santana.

**Santana:** So, what, I say that I feel that I hate her and she ruined everything in a NICE way? (laughs without humor)

**Brittany:** Yeah, pretty much.

**Santana:** Is that even possible?

**Brittany:** Yes. You say although I don't like what you did, I appreciate the thought.

**Santana:** Give me a second to write that down. (literally gets out her pen an d paper and does so) Is that...what will happen then?

**Brittany:** She'll say something Rachel like and then you apologize for saying mean things to her. You were just angry and it wasn't the right choice of words.

**Santana:** (still scribbling down word for word) So I...say "I'm sorry for saying mean things to you. I was just angry and they weren't the right choice of words?" But what if I'm still angry and I'm sort of not sorry all the way and I still sort of hate her?

**Brittany:** Yeah. Don't say the word hate, she'll get super mad and probably never talk to you ever again. Say something like, you know she was only trying to help, but you're still a little upset with her.

**Santana:** It's a lot upset though, not a LITTLE. (still scribbling) So...""I'm sorry for saying mean things to you. I was just angry and they weren't the right choice of words. But I'm still angry and I'm sort of not sorry all the way and I know you were trying to help but I'm still a lot upset with you?"

**Brittany:** It doesn't matter if you want to shove her down three flights of stairs, you only say a little upset and take out the not sorry at all, just leave it at wrong choice of words.

**Santana:** Ughhh that's not even how it really is though. (deep sigh) So...(scribbling out some words) "I'm sorry for saying mean things to you. I was just angry and they weren't the right choice of words. But I'm still angry and I know you were trying to help but I'm still a little upset with you?"

**Brittany:** You're changing one word, it'll be okay. And yes, that sounds good.

**Santana:** Thanks Brittany...(several more deep breaths) I love you.

**Brittany:** Me too. And it's no problem, anything to help.

**Santana:** You're an awesome friend. I really do love you.

88

Facebook status posts

**Rachel Berry:** It's been a long few days...But, well, it could definitely be worse, I'm sure.

Santana: how, exactly? By contracting flesh eating bacteria? Or would that be a sign of progress?

Rachel: I suppose that would depend on who you asked, Santana…

Santana: I'm not asking.

Rachel: Is there something you needed, Santana?

Santana: Yeah, my life back.

Rachel: And you know exactly how. Your mother has told you exactly what needs to be done and what she expects of you, as you've said. If you want your life back so badly, then do it. Because honestly? You've not had YOUR life for a long time now. You've let your fears control you since as long as I've known of your existence.

Santana: Yeah that makes it HER life, not mine. I didn't exactly hand it over and say run free and wild with it. Or more like jailer and key. That is my life. I liked it just how it was. You can't even begin to get what you've done and you don't care either, you just stick your nose in where it doesn't belong. I know that's hard not to, size that it is , but you could have tried harder to resist

Rachel: No, you didn't. Had you loved your life so much you wouldn't be where you are now. And no matter how many times you attempt to rip open old wounds, I will not be sorry for my decision and I will not cower. I love you. And once upon a time you told me yourself that my shit is yours and yours is mine.

Santana: You love some ridiculous fantasy of me you think I am or want me to be. You love the idea of yourself as Rachel the all important white knight saving the day for poor damsel Santana. You love the thought of making me some kind of tamed pussy cat that you can take all the credit for declawing, you don't love me. If you loved me you'd love everything about me and not change it at all.

Rachel: I'm sorry that's what you've come to see me as. I'll leave you alone, then. Again.

Santana: That's such a stupid sweater you're wearing...those stupid rabbits, that's exactly what you are. hop hop hop into my business, fuck me senseless, twitch you nose, and hop off again.

_Rachel: Stop. _If that's how you want to view us having sex, then so be it. I'm sorry I wasn't a proper warm body and couldn't keep my mouth shut. I'm sorry I actually cared, instead of just letting you use me for sex. Stop speaking to me. Right now, I honestly can't handle hearing these things from you.

Santana: oh right, the truth is hard, it's way more fun to jump in with a wrecking ball and then dart for cover

88

**Texts**

**Santana:** hi.

**Rachel:** I told you I didn't want to hear anymore 'hard truths' Santana...

**Santana:** what, you prefer soft lies?

**Santana:** look, I'm...not going to be mean

**Santana:** probably. if all goes well

**Rachel:** It doesn't matter what I want. What do you want from me, Santana?

**Santana:** just to talk or something, I guess

**Santana:** Brittany keeps saying I should and she's really persistent and it's weird she even wants it so idk

**Santana:** this is probably a really stupid idea

**Rachel:** I've honestly nothing left I can say. I've told you over and over again why I did what I did. So, if you want to talk, talk. I'm listening.

**Santana:** I guess I'll just say it.

**Santana:** I still love you.

**Santana:** I still feel like I hate you and I think I kind of do but I still love you too.

**Santana:** and that's why this is ...idk

**Santana:** as bad as it is.

**Santana:** I don't know what to do with that.

**Rachel:** Then you need to figure it out, because essentially calling me a whore really is not something I can handle hearing from you. Especially given that I give you my virginity.

**Santana:** (several minutes later, directly copying off of Brittany's advice) Although I don't like what you did, I appreciate the thought.

**Rachel:** ... Alright then. If you're going that route, apologizing for calling me a slut would also be kind of you.

**Santana:** I didn't call you a slut. What are you talking about?

**Rachel:** A rabbit, Santana?

**Santana:** Oh...that was because of your shirt...it was sort of an impulsive thing

**Santana:** (directly copying what Brittany dictated) I'm sorry for saying mean things to you. I was just angry and they weren't the right choice of words. But I'm still angry and I know you were trying to help but I'm still a little upset with you.

**Rachel:** Stop. I don't know what you're doing, but I'm not stupid. You don't mean any of this.

**Santana:** Yes I do.

**Santana:** I mean I left out some stuff but I mean it.

**Rachel:** Okay...

**Santana:** So...yeah.

**Rachel:** Is that all, then?

**Santana:** You mean you don't care?

**Rachel:** Of course I care... But... Santana you... You /scared/ me that day... I actually... I don't. You really hurt me, too, Santana. I KNOW I hurt you, and your angry, and you have the right to be because yes, I broke your trust. But you need to understand that for the past week or so you've been incredibly hurtful. Even when you screamed at me, you said a lot of painful things. And honestly? You don't sound sincere. You sound like you're reading off some sort of script or something.

**Santana:** ...you don't care?

**Santana:** you mean it doesn't even matter what I say at all?

**Santana:** I was trying to say everything exactly right and it doesn't even matter?

**Rachel:** That's not what I said at all, Santana. Not even close.

**Rachel:** Once again, no matter what I say, YOU are the one that never listens. YOU are the one that makes it about you. If it's not exactly what you want me to say, you'd rather me not say anything at all.

**Santana:** this is about me!

**Santana:** god you're so maddening!

**Santana:** you're the one who said you don't care and I'm not sincere and all that! so it doesn't matter, like I said

**Rachel:** do you ever even listen to yourself?!

**Rachel:** You were apparently trying to apologize to /me/. Which means this was technically about me. And I was TRYING to tell you how I FEEL. But all you wanted to hear was "it's okay I accept your apology" or something of that nature.

**Rachel:** Newflash, Santana; I've owned up to what I did. I hurt you. I broke your trust. Everything is apparently all my fault and you hate me but you love me but mostly you just hate me. I get it. I actually read/listen when you talk.

**Rachel:** You, however, have not a CLUE as to how I feel, what you said to me, what you did, how YOU hurt ME.

**Rachel:** And honestly? It's very hard for me to believe that you care, because if you did, if you actually still loved me, you would never said the things you did. You wouldn't- God I just can't even right now about this.

**Rachel:** I never ONCE said that I didn't care. Not ONCE. But all you hear is whatever makes you feel better or more right. That's it.

**Rachel:** Until you decide to actually listen to me, and open yourself up to the reality of this entire situation, just leave me alone.

**Rachel:** I get that you'd probably love knowing that I've been crying every night and can barely hold myself together, but at least pretend that you care about me enough not to actively encourage it.

**Santana:** I wanted to hurt you because you hurt me!

**Santana:** I still do want to hurt you!

**Santana:** But I WON'T. I'm trying NOT to. I'm trying to STOP and that's HARD but I still am and that has to mean something

**Santana:** I am listening! You're not hearing right!

**Santana:** I don't even remember half of what I say when I get mad anyway!

**Santana:** I don't love that you've been crying every night, okay? I don't. But god, Rachel, I've been doing a hell of a lot of crying too. I can't get through a fucking family dinner without losing my shit and at night god, it's just

**Santana:** I tried to say it all RIGHT

**Rachel:** You're not using Santana words. I know we weren't together long, but I know how you communicate, and that- That wasn't it. Okay?

**Rachel:** Just. I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry. I'm sorry I screwed everything up and I'm sorry I hurt you and that I broke us up and I'm sorry for everything I keep doing wrong.

**Rachel:** But I'm not sorry for caring. Or for telling your mother. I'm just sorry how everything happened between us because of it.

**Santana:** Santana words are always wrong!

**Santana:** Santana words always fuck everything up, I mean look at this

**Santana:** I don't know.

**Santana:** I don't...I don't know what to do or think or feel or...anything

**Rachel:** I'm sorry, Santana. I'm sorry. I miss you, and I'm sorry. And I don't know what else to do anymore.

**Santana:** I don't either.**Rachel:** I ned to go. goonght

**Santana:** are you crying right now?

**Santana:** dammit Brittany and her "awesome advice"

**Rachel:** [ignores, curling up in her bed to cry]

**Santana:** (gets pissed off and hangs up phone violently, throwing onto bed. Kicks bed and injures foot, hops around cursing, then grabs phone and furiously texts Brittany)

Texts

**Santana:** So I told Rachel WORD FOR WORD what you said and it totally bombed

**Brittany:** How did it bomb? What did she say?

**Santana:** she said I didn't mean it and those aren't my words and I hurt her and I called her a slut when really I just compared her to a rabbit is all, and that was just because she was wearing a rabbit shirt, and then she said I make it all about me and she doesn't care and she can't talk to me anymore...

**S:** ...but...what else was I supposed to say? I even wrote it down!

**B:** How you felt. But not in a mean way. You seriously told her everything I told you to say?

**S:** I said EVERYTHING you said to say, in exactly the same order and she just said it wasn't my words. How did she know that?

**B:** Oh Santana. It's because most of the time, you don't say nice things to people, especially when they've pissed you off.

**S:** ...**S:** am I really that much of a bitch?

**S:** I'm nice...aren't I?

**B:** Not all the time.

**B:** Yeah, you're totally nice. To me.

**S:** I'm nice to other people...

**S:** Sometimes...

**S:** when they deserve it...

**S:** If they don't get on my nerves...

**S:** I'm nice!

**B:** If you weren't nice you wouldn't be my very best friend, so yes you are nice.

**S:** you're the nicest person in the world though

**S:** So...maybe you just think I'm nice because you're so nice

**B:** No, because I'm so nice, I wouldn't like you if you were super mean. Like, you have your mean moments, but I think most of the time you're either not saying anything because me or whoever is talking or you are being nice.

**Santana:** Okay.

**Santana:** why do you like me when I'm mean?

**Brittany:** When you are being mean it isn't just because you're bored and decided to lash out on someone. It's usually because you're standing up for me or whoever is getting picked on.

**Santana:** ...actually I'm mean a lot more than that...and sometimes it is because I'm bored or don't like them or feel bad or...whatever...

**Santana:** I am mean, Brittany.

**Brittany:** I don't agree with doing with you doing that. It's probably something you should work on..

**S:** I'm trying...

88

It wasn't unusual, over the past week and a half, for Santana to find herself crying.

It was becoming almost routine and expected, though no less painful each time. She cried when she went to dress some mornings and realized that she couldn't put on her Cheerios uniform, because she wouldn't be allowed to participate. She cried when she got in the shower and could swear, touching and looking at her body, that she could visibly see herself gaining weightinstead of losing it. She cried into Brittany's shoulder or over the receiver of her cell phone at least once a day sometimes for reasons she couldn't even exactly identify, and she had even once let tears come into her eyes in Quinn's presence, something that would have been absolutely taboo barring extreme drunkenness before. She cried herself to sleep more nights than not, and for nearly every meal that her mother made her and made sure she ate without purging afterward, she cried after she had finished eating it, even as her mother sat with her and helped her endure the span of time after where she felt her most panicked and urged to be rid of it.

It was becoming something that Maribel seemed to expect and deal with in stride, something her father completely avoided, and something that her abuela both avoided and showed disgust by, the few times she had walked in on. It was humiliating and felt ridiculous, but it wasn't something that Santana could seem to stop. As much as she had hurt before Rachel had told, it had not lessened at all with these changes; if anything, it only hurt differently, and sometimes she was sure it hurt more.

It was only now, after her failed conversation with Rachel, that Santana was starting to realize that there was more behind the frequent tears than she had thought. She knew she was upset over having to eat, over being off of Cheerios and her paranoia that everyone in the school knew what was going on and was talking about her and judging her, thinking her to be weak and stupid and beneath them. She knew she was upset over her abuela's attitude, even though Maribel made it clear she would not tolerate her showing open derision towards Santana or upsetting her any longer, especially during meals, and she knew she was upset and angry over what even now she viewed as Rachel's betrayal of her trust. But until Rachel refused to accept the apology Brittany had crafted for her, until Rachel actually text-yelled back at her, Santana had not quite realized that as angry and upset as she was at her, she also MISSED Rachel. She missed her so much that just thinking of her made her ache all over with the desire to be near her, to touch her and hold her and be held by her. She missed her, she still wanted her, and when Rachel didn't seem to accept her…

And that more than anything else was what lead to her tears as soon as dinner concluded later that night. It wasn't the crying or its timing itself that was unusual, as both were expected by now; it was the fact that even with Maribel sitting next to her like usual, stroking her back and encouraging her softly in Spanish, Santana couldn't seem to stop. If anything, her mother sitting with her and attending to her only seemed to make it worse, until she found herself nearly hyperventilating, doubled over until her face nearly touched her knees.

"Oh Santana, mi querida…shhh," her mother tried to soothe her, caressing her, wrapping both arms around her and rocking her slightly as Santana choked on her own tears, beginning to cough. "It will get better, mi Corazon. It will be better."

After a couple of minutes, when Santana had calmed down enough to seem better able to breathe, she had pulled back enough to see her face, pushing back her hair so she could see her eyes, and said quietly, "It is more than the eating, yes?"

Santana didn't know how the hell her mother could know that, but it seemed like she did, and she nodded, the words beginning to pour out unchecked as fresh tears emerged.

"I don't know what to do, Brittany said to talk to her and apologize and I did, even though I'm only sorry over some stuff and I'm not sorry too because I wanted to hurt her and she should hurt because I do, I do a LOT, I said exactly what Brittany said to and I left out all kinds of things I wanted to say and she still didn't, she still said I didn't mean it and how she isn't accepting it or something and then she stopped answering me and she….she said I make things about me and that I hurt her and…"

She cuts off, face buried in Maribel's shoulder, and as her mother rubbed her back, Santana feels her exhale against her hair, waiting. Eventually Maribel pushed her back a little to look into her face.

"Listen to me, mija. You love that girl. You love her, and she loves you, and she did what she thought best for you because she loves you. She did the right thing by you because she loves you. You miss her and you want her back in your life and you are the one to make this happen. She has done right by you. Now you owe it to her to do right by her. Do not use Brittany's words, use yours. I understand you do not like what she did and expect no less, but what she did was right and she did it with love and nothing else. If you do love her and miss her as much as the stains all over my shirt seem to indicate, then you must show her. Do not let this ball drop, mija. Show her. I know you and I am sure she is right, you have undoubtedly been hurtful to her, and she did not deserve it. I told you, carina, do not hurt others because you are hurt. I'm here to help you with your hurt, that's why I am here now and that is where I have been every day. Do not put it out on others' heads."

She squeezed her lightly, then kissed the top of her head before letting go of her, nodding her head towards the phone. "Use your words, Santana. Yours."

And after several deep breaths and a tight hug, Santana went upstairs to her bedroom, following Maribel's subsequent request that she keep her door open- she guessed her mom didn't fully trust her not to still try to purge after having been upset. For several minutes she stared at the phone, and then, finally, she dialed Rachel's number


	42. Chapter 42

**Calls**

**Rachel:** [hears her phone going off, looks at the screen, sniffling. Collects herself, and finally picks up] Hello, Santana...

**Santana:** (deep breath in, already starting to pace room nervously) Hi. So, uh...(another deep breath) I...shouldn't have compared you to a rabbit or...threatened to destroy all your stuffed animals and sweaters or...to dump a month's worth of slushies on you all at once or...told you I hate you or...whatever else i said.

**Rachel:** [blinks a little in surprise, clears her throat] Um... No, you shouldn't have... But I understand, more or less, why you did... Am I to assume this is an apology, or...?

**Santana:** Yeah. I guess. Like...(steals glance at scribbled cheat sheet of notes now directly quoted from her mother) I shouldn't take my hurt out by hurting other people who are doing right by me. (very soft under her breath) Or something. (then, remembering her mother had said to use her own words, sighs, somewhat guilty, and looks away from it) So...I shouldn't have.

**Rachel:** Apology accepted, Santana. [exhales heavily, swallowing audibly]. As- As I said last night... I'm sorry, too, for causing so many problems for you...

**Santana:** Yeah but you're like...super fixer upper Rachel so I guess...that's what you do.

**Rachel:** I'm also a little bit hopelessly in love with you, so... [shrugs helplessly]

**S:** Still? (swallows)

**Rachel:** [shaky smile] Yeah... Still... Do you... Do you still hate-love me... or...?

**Santana:** (exhales, thinking for several moments) I think...yeah but...it's not as much as non-hate love parts.

**Rachel:** That's... That's good, right?

**S:** I...think so.

**Rachel:** Okay... Um... Okay...

**Santana:** (another long breath in and out, tightens hand on phone) I...miss you. I don't think I've ever been so pissed off at anyone in my life but...I miss you too.

**Rachel:** [sniffles, voice cracking] I miss you, too... so much...

**Santana:** (hearing her, starts to tear up and fiercely wipes at eyes) No don't. Stop it.

**Rachel:** [tears starts welling up] I know- I know we're not together anymore but- Can you- Please come over... Please come hold me... [muffled sob]

**Santana:** (shaky breaths into receiver as she considers her options. Finally) O-okay. (few seconds later) Oh, dammit, wait...Mami's not letting me go anywhere unless she talks with the parents and...I don't know...

**Rachel:** Can I- Can I come over then?

**Santana:** Um...yes. Yeah...

**Rachel:** Okay. I'll- I'll be over soon. Um. Okay.

**S:** Okay... :

88

Rachel hesitated at the front door of the Lopez home, swallowing thickly and trying her best to compose herself. She had been doing well up until she had actually arrived, and now, faced with the reality that she was, in fact, going to be physically right in front of Santana, she was… Well, Rachel wasn't sure what she was.

The last time they had been face to face, Rachel had almost been scared that Santana would actually strike her, and even though there had been no physical blows, the emotional hits she had taken that day were still healing. She still loved Santana, yes, but the girl knew how to hit all the right scars and reopen them, and Rachel wasn't sure if she could recover from such an attack for a second time…

She hoped she wouldn't have.

With a deep, shaky breath, the small teenager finally knocked on the door firmly, whilst simultaneously sending a text to Santana to inform her that she had arrived.

Her heart was pounding, hands still shook slightly despite her best attempts to calm them, and though she knew Santana hated to see her cry (couldn't handle it in the least), Rachel _knew _she was going end up doing exactly that.

Hopefully, this time, maybe Santana would be the one to hold her through it.

Though, were she honest with herself, Rachel honestly did not expect anything of the sort, even though that was technically the entire reason for her having come here in the first place.

Santana didn't know what she was getting herself into, letting Rachel come over.

She knew the girl had been crying talking to her, she could just tell, and Santana hated hearing or seeing Rachel cry. Even now, after she had upset her world, she couldn't take that, and what was she supposed to do about it? How could she watch Rachel cry and not cry too, and she was so sick of crying, the last thing she wanted was for Rachel to see that…

She didn't want that, and she didn't want a lecture from her or a guilt trip, or worse, Rachel looking at her, instantly noticing, as Santana was sure she would, that she had gained three pounds, and getting HAPPY about it. Santana was certain that everyone noticed and was as instantly aware as she was, that she was now three pounds heavier thanks to her mother's constant vigilance and in spite of her own efforts to sabotage.

This could be entirely too much. It already was, and still, she went to answer the door when she heard it ring, steeling herself with several breaths before opening it. Seeing Rachel standing there, looking every bit as apprehensive as she felt, she stepped back to let her in.

"Hi."

Seeing Santana had even more of an affect on her than Rachel originally thought it would.

Her first instinct was to flinch, a sudden flashback of Santana raging at her running through her head. But she kept that in check, jaw tightening instead, thankfully.

Her next instinct was to, for lack of better word, completely fall apart and beg Santana to take her back.

She didn't want to admit it, but her will was slowly breaking, and although she was still positive she had done the right thing, she'd give and do just about anything to have Santana hold her again and say she loved her, instead of hate-loved, or hated. Her jaw clenched harder as she willed herself not to cry, but she knew, she _knew _it was no use.

"Will you be m-mad if I start crying?" asked Rachel in the smallest, most broken voice she had ever heard come from her lips when she wasn't acting. "B-because-" she was choked off by a sudden sob, which she tried to swallow down, but it only compounded, making her breathing increase, tears welling up behind her eyes and out of her control, and before Rachel could stop it, she was convulsing with sobs where she stood, hands clenched tightly into fist and tears running down her cheeks from closed eyes. She _still _tried to stop from crying, tried fighting it, but all her attempts only seemed to work her up more and she couldn't stop herself from falling apart right before Santana's eyes.

Oh god no no no noooo…

It was exactly what Santana had dreaded, exactly what she didn't know how to deal with. Rachel had barely even got inside the door before she was sobbing, barely even standing up, and Santana not only didn't know why since she hadn't done ANYTHING but stand there, but she didn't know what to do.

She didn't know what she felt about Rachel except…EVERYTHING. She didn't know if she wanted to push her out the door or demand she stop crying or break down in tears and apologize and beg her to be happy. She didn't know if she wanted to scream at her or tell her she loved her. She didn't know and for a second she stood helplessly, biting down on the inside of her cheeks.

But then her desire to help Rachel, to make her stop crying and feel better, her hatred at seeing her upset, took over more prominently, and she stepped in and took her hand, looking over her shoulder afraid that Maribel would come in at any second and accuse her of being the one to cause it.

"Rachel…come on, stop…Rachel…"

Rachel practically fell into Santana the second she felt the girl take her hand. She clung tightly to Santana's shirt, hiding her face in Santana's neck, her entire body tense and shaking, partially from the intensity of her crying, partially in fear that she'd be pushed away at any second. "I-I'm- I'm s-s-s-sor-ry," she sobbed, hiccuping and breathing unsteadily.

Her breathing got worse, just this side of hyperventilating, and she clung even tight to Santana, ;egs nearly giving out on her.

"'M s-sorry, 'm _sorry_. P-pl-please do-don't-" she breathed in roughly, chest shuddering with the effort, "don't h-hate me," sobbed the breaking girl, falling into near-incoherent repeats of the words 'I'm sorry' and 'Please' over and over again as she desperately tried to get control of herself, but to no avail.

Rachel just held onto Santana as tightly as she could, begging for some sort of anchor and terrified that she'd be left on her own again.

Apparently it could get worse.

Santana's chest grew so tight she had difficulty drawing breath of her own, both due to her panic over Rachel's intense reaction and her own growing emotion at the girl's behavior. She doesn't move at first, not putting her arms around Rachel or actively supporting her as she feels the girl's hot tears soak through her shirt, dampening her skin. Rachel is touching her for the first time in over a week and somehow it feels so good and right even though it almost physically hurts too, and she doesn't know what the hell to do or think or feel.

She is pretty sure she hears her mother calling her name, which does nothing to help her anxiety as she tries to figure out what to do. Her strongest instincts, both to shove Rachel away and to hug her and start crying too, war inside her, and she compromises, slowly putting her arms around her as she struggles not to let her legs buckle under her weight. Chewing harder on the inside of her cheeks, blinking frequently, she calls back to her mother.

"Go away, it's fine!"

It's obviously not but she doesn't know what else to say. To Rachel, her voice shaking, she says, "Stop, stop it…god, I'm sorry, okay, stop, please…"

Rachel was _trying_, she really, _really _really was, but this was- _Everything _was just pouring out, and she couldn't stop it no matter how much she wanted to. She DID manage to quiet herself, muffling her sobs into Santana's shoulder more, but her hold on the girl didn't really loosen at all, and instead a jumble of words came flooding out.

:I- I just- I love you, and I- I don't- I didn't want to lose you but I did and you're gone forever and it's all- it's- it's all my f-fault and I can't- hic- I can't even-" she had to stop then, biting on her lip hard again. Her arms moved to wrap around to Santana's back, her clenching the fabric of her shirt there, and pressing into Santana as tightly as she physically could.

Rachel tried speak again, voice still thick and breathing choked. "I miss you so much. I thought- I thought I could- could hand it. I can't. I c-can't. You- You're- And I'm-" She sniffled hard, whining as her body shook again. "'M not s-strong enough. M'not. I- I n-need you," she managed, before falling back into the barely contained and muffled sobs all over again.

Rachel wasn't stopping. Rachel wasn't stopping at all, she just kept crying and hugging on her and she was NOT stopping, and it was driving Santana to an almost unbearable state of agitation.

"Rachel," she repeated desperately, hearing the tightness in her voice, "Rachel, come on, stop….come on, please…"

She was almost relieved when her mother came into the room, eyebrows knit with concern and some suspicion too as she looked from her daughter to the crying girl in her arms. Before Maribel could accuse her of anything, Santana shook her head hurriedly, her voice rising in pitch as she told her, "I didn't do it, Mami, I swear!"

She swore her mother's lips twitched before she came closer to them, not touching Rachel, but near enough to do so as she said to her, "Rachel, sweetheart, are you all right? Sit…sit down and take some breaths in, you will make yourself sick….Santana, help her to sit, mija."

But Santana is in no mood at all to sit out in the more public area of her house, where anyone could walk in at any second, with Rachel so distraught. Shaking her head again, trying to detach herself without entirely letting her go, since she doubted Rachel could walk alone, she started to haul the girl with difficulty in the direction of her bedroom, muttering over her shoulder to her mother, "Mami, I swear I didn't do anything!" just for good measure.

But as she was leading her down the hallway, she had to stop short, almost tripping over Rachel's feet in the process, because Alma was standing in the doorway of her bedroom, obviously having been drawn out by the noise. As their eyes meet, Alma's lip curls, and she deliberately looks Rachel up and down with disgust made obvious in her expression.

"You certainly should be crying, with the level of sin you commit in a holy home," she commented, her voice low but harsh in tone. "Disgusting."

And for Santana, there was no further thought, no further confusion or mixed emotions. She felt one thing and one thing only then- rage. How dare her abuela say something like that when Rachel was so upset, how dare she judge her, how dare she look at her like that and call her a sinner or disgusting? How dare she ever say anything about her when she didn't know her at all, how DARE she?

"You don't know ANYTHING about her!" she yelled back, her arm tightening around Rachel, unconscious of her fingers digging into her skin. "You don't have a CLUE who she is! She is NOT a SINNER, she is RACHEL BERRY, she's smart and funny and has more talent in her fingernail than you could ever imagine in your lifetime, and she's loyal and determined and ambitious and does what she thinks is right even if she loses EVERYTHING, and she is not DISGUSTING, she is beautiful and original and everything you could never even see because you're so damn blind with the world! The only thing you know about her at all is she LOVES ME and obviously you know nothing about love so how the hell do I expect you to understand that?"

"Santana Lopez, do not ever raise your voice at me!" Alma barked, as Santana tried to pull Rachel past her, yelling over her.

"I'll raise my voice at you all I want, you've yelled at me all my life and I took it because I thought you were right, I LOVED you, you don't know shit about love, Abuela! You don't know-"

"DON'T YOU EVER SPEAK TO ME LIKE-"

"What is going on?!" Maribel hollered over them both as she too entered the hallway, "Santana, lower your voice, now! Alma, I suggest you leave both those girls be or we will have words I do not wish to speak. Santana-"

But Santana was already pulling Rachel into her room, slamming the door behind her. She wasn't aware that she was still gripping Rachel hard, her pulse throbbing in her head, breathing much too fast, trembling with her anger.

Rachel wasn't sure what was happening, but she knew she was be moved, and that Santana wasn't letting go. And then, then Santana was… Was defending her?

She hung onto Santana, sniffling quietly as she listened to every word, and by the time she was in Santana's room, she had calmed down, somewhat.

Santana… Santana still… She swallowed thickly, taking comforting in the resounding words she had heard and the tight grip Santana had on her, but knew that she needed to at least try to calm the girl down.

Managing to pull back a little, she reached up, cupping Santana's cheeks with her hands and gently smoothing her thumbs over the girl's cheeks. "S-Santana? Please, please calm down…" she asked, voice still thick from crying but not as shaky as it had been up to this point. "And… Thank you… Thank you for defending me, again, even if… Well… yeah…" She wasn't sure what else to say, but she kept Santana's eyes focused on her as much as she could, and her thumbs continued to slowly and softly massage over the other girl's cheeks, and her jaw, and even to her forehead.

Rachel seemed to be a little calmer now, but Santana barely noticed. She hardly felt at all Rachel's fingers on her face, stroking her skin, and in fact she attempted to shrug her away from her. She was still agitated, and she starts to pace the floor of her room, gesturing broadly with her arms in slashing motions as she began to verbally rant her thoughts without censoring.

"She hates me, why does she hate me so fucking much, I'm still the same person, the SAME PERSON, she never really loved me, she just loved who she thought I was, she never loved me!"

This is a direct and unconscious parallel to her earlier assumptions and feelings towards Rachel, but she doesn't realize this as she continues to rant, becoming more specific to Alma now.

"She doesn't KNOW you, she has no right, how can she say things like that when she doesn't know you, she just wants to make me miserable, she does everything she can to make me miserable, why does she enjoy that, why does she think I'm so horrible?! She says whatever she wants and she doesn't care what we think or feel or anything, she just says it and she still gets to live here and no one even really wants here here but because she's family and old and it's not FAIR, I'm family and I'm still in school and we have a whole YEAR left, more than a year, and she'll still be here breathing down my neck and calling me a sinner and she has NO RIGHT to do that to people I love, NONE, I swear I want to kill her, she can do whatever to me but NOT TO OTHER PEOPLE, NOT TO YOU, NO ONE CAN SAY THAT TO YOU!"

She doesn't realize she's started crying until the first tear drips off her chin, soaking through her shirt.

Pulling back, biting her lip and clasping her hands to her chest, Rachel's emotions were all over the place. On one hand, she was… She was a bit smitten at the words coming from Santana's mouth. On the other hand, the girl was incredibly worked up and Rachel really wasn't sure what to do. Words clearly weren't any use here, but words were all Rachel had- just her words and her voice.

It's when she notices that Santana has started to cry that she finally manages to jump into action.

Rachel moves towards Santana, grabbing her shirt and pulling her in as her hands move up to cup her face and draw her into a chaste, soft kiss. It's quick, and Rachel isn't sure if it's the right thing to do, but it's all she can think of.

When she draws back, she clears her throat, taking a deep breath to calm herself down more before speaking quietly. "Please calm down…" she all but begs, moving some of Santana's loose hair behind her ear. "Please? I love you… And you're incredible, even if… even when you're mean sometimes. But if you started to cry I'll definitely start crying again as well, and I know you hate that and don't really know what to do, so…" Her voice actually cracked at the end, but over all she was managing to keep herself pretty well together.

Santana doesn't react to Rachel's kiss. To her, it is completely out of the blue and surprising, and she draws in a sharp breath when Rachel pulls back from her before releasing, trying to calm herself. Rachel is tucking her hair behind her ear, still very close to her, asking her to calm down, to stop crying, and Santana tries to comply.

Closing her eyes and bowing her head, she breathes for a few moments, but although her agitation has decreased slightly, she is still upset, a few more tears emerging that she wipes at with her fingertips as soon as she feels them in her eyes, as though denying they exist if they don't entirely fall.

"I hate her. She doesn't know you, she's wrong. She can't say those things. She's WRONG."

Rachel draws Santana into another hug, though this time it's meant more for holding her, though it also helps to anchor herself as well. "I know that, and you know that, and your family knows that one way or another," she replied, drawing light patterns onto Santana's back in an attempt to sooth her. "But getting angry over everything is just letting her win. She isn't worth it, I promise."

She leaned her head against Santana's shoulder, tightening her hold just the slightest.

Her own heart was still pounding wildly, and she was utterly exhausted. But Santana needed an anchor of her own, and Rachel would always put her own needs behind those of the girl currently in her arms. At least for the foreseeable future, for sure.

Several more steadying breaths later, Santana is mostly back under control. She lets herself lean into Rachel, her arms slowly moving around her to hold her back, and she lets her head come to rest against Rachel's. She can feel Rachel's heart against hers, just as fast in its beats, and it begins to occur to her gradually what she's doing. She should probably pull away. She's still not sure what exactly is left between her and Rachel…but she really doesn't want to let go.

After a few more seconds, she pulls back, rolling up her eyes to gather further control before looking back at Rachel, now almost composed. Trying to rearrange her features into more dignified expression, she tries to remember what she has just said to her as well, and what she had said to her grandma. She had a feeling it was a lot more than she'd intended.

Rachel steps away as Santana moves back, clearing her throat and looking down, not quite able to make eye contact with the other girl. She feels awkward now, and her hands fidget into her skirt as her feet shift a little. "I um… Do you want me to leave…?" she asks carefully, glancing up at Santana then down to the floor again.

She wipes away unshed tears in her eyes, and can't help but wonder if she made a mistake in coming here. All she did was cause more problems, clearly, and she doesn't even really feel better. If anything, she's still anxious and hopeless, and she can't figure what the look Santana is giving her means.

People have always said she wears her heart on her sleeve, but it's never felt more exposed and injured than it has in the last few days.

Did she want Rachel to leave?

Santana considered, then slowly shook her head. No, no she didn't. What she wanted was Rachel with her, Rachel near her. Beyond that, she didn't know, but for now…Rachel being here, whatever happened after, was a start.

"No," she said quietly. "No, I don't."

Rachel was still crying, or trying not to, and she followed up with, "Please don't cry. Please? I don't know what you wanted to come for or…what we're gonna do…but don't cry."

"I just wanted you to hold me. Because I miss you. I didn't mean to cause all these problems for you…" replied Rachel quietly, standing awkwardly in the middle of Santana's room, essentially trying to look as small as she could.

Maybe she shouldn't have come over at all. That would have been better. Right?

She sighed, rubbing her arm and shifting from foot to foot. "So um… Yeah… We could uh… We could watch a movie, maybe?"

Hold Rachel? Well…that would be a little strange, wouldn't it? Maybe exactly because it WOULDN'T be.

Santana hesitated, considering. She wanted to hold Rachel. What she didn't know was what it would mean, what it would lead to, and what she wanted it to be.

Watching a movie sounded like a semi

semi safe option…though they never had watched a movie before without cuddling. Would Rachel expect that? Did Santana want that?

"Okay," she said finally, sealing her decision. "Yeah."

Nodding slowly, Rachel made her way over to Santana's bed, sitting down cautiously, letting out a slow rush of air. "You can pick," she offered. "Anything you like."

She scooted to the middle of the girl's bed, then over a little, leaning back against the headboard.

It was so weird, though Rachel while Santana started up a movie, how different it all was. Here she was, in Santana's room, feeling completely weird and unsure, and a little bit more than anxious, about to watch some sort of movie, maybe with or without cuddling.

What Rachel did know was that, like the majority of their relationship had been, the ball was in Santana's court again. It usually was, but especially now. All she could do was wait and see what Santana would do, wanted to do, and she had never been so worried about that before until now.

Anything she'd like? Anything?

Santana was tempted to test the waters by picking out all the movies she knew Rachel hated, the gorier the better, but she found herself reaching for a musical they both enjoyed, as though in silence truce even she didn't fully understand. As Rachel leaned against her headboard, a few inches carefully separating their bodies, Santana tried to focus on the screen but found it nearly impossible.

It was unnatural to watch a movie with Rachel, sit this close, and not touch her. It was unnatural no matter what else was going on, and Santana began to feel as though she were physically itching, sitting near her on the bed. A full thirty minutes went by before she finally edged closer, letting her hand come out to touch the other girl's knee.

Rachel nearly jumped out of her skin when Santana's hand settled itself on her knee, but she relaxed soon enough, glancing at Santana, thinking for a moment, then, before she could psyche herself out too much, she closed the distance between them and lightly rested her head on Santana's shoulder.

She was still somewhat tense, and she wasn't really putting her full weight against the other girl, as though afraid Santana would pull away at any moment. But, still, at least the movie wasn't a scary one, and at least the other girl had made the first move.

It was a step, hopefully in the right direction.

As Rachel settled her head against her, Santana tensed, looking down at her, then deliberately attempted to relax her muscles again. This wasn't bad. This was…okay. Maybe even good.

Exhaling, she slowly leaned her head down against Rachel's. She didn't put her arm around her, but she is leaning lightly into her, they are touching fully now, and she can hear Rachel's breathing clearly.


	43. Chapter 43

**Facebook status**

Santana Lopez: I MIGHT be able to go back to Cheerios soon

Brittany: Hm, why? I'm going to quit I think.

Santana: What? Why would you quit?!

Brittany: Because Sue is crazy? Plus, Tina said that Sue can't make us stay

Santana: But I want to be in it! I want you to be too!

Brittany: You can, but I don't know if I want to be yelled at anymore. Three years is a pretty long time to be getting yelled at …

Santana: Brittany I'm trying really hard for Mami to let me back and now you're quitting!

Brittany: Maybe. If I do, you'll still have Quinn. And I'm in almost every single one of your classes _and_ we have glee club. Plus we sometimes hangout after school. It's not like you're never going to see me

Santana: it's supposed to be the THREE of us! The unholy trinity! You're suppose to do Cheerios with me, that's where that came from!

Brittany: Can't we still be that outside of the Cheerios?

Santana: It's not the same! No!

Brittany: So if I quit what happens between all of us? Do we all just stop being friends or..?…is that what you want..

Santana: No. But it kind of seems like that's whats going to happen.

Brittany: I don't want that to happen!

Santana: That's why I don't want you to quit!

Brittany: Since our friendship will fall apart if I quit, I won't. …I want to be friends no matter what. We said , but you're the one who is saying that if I quit things won't be the same. Because I don't think they will our friendship is forever then why would things change if I quit. Forever is forever whether I'm on the Cheerios or not.

**Private messages**

Santana: : Brittany…I'm scared.

Brittany: Scared of what? You're never scared

Santana: HA. I'm scared of everything. I'm scared of losing you and I'm scared of gaining weight and I'm scared of eating and being in cheerleading and not being in cheerleading and being with Rachel and not being with Rachel and showing people what I think and feel and not showing them and being a bitch and not being a bitch and abuela never loving me and abuela always being there bringing me down and I'm scared of who I am and who I'll be and EVERYTHING. I'm scared you won't ever love me the same. I'm scared it's all changing and it's all my fault

Brittany: don't worry about all that stuff. Right now you're not going to lose me, you should gain a few pounds, you should eat, don't worry about cheerleading, do whatever is best for you and Rachel, express how you feel, be a bitch when you want, forget your abuela, who you are is perfect and who you will be is perfect too. And I'll always love you, maybe not_in love_ with you like I was, but I'll still love you forever. Everything is changing and it's just how life is we can't stop it even though sometimes I wish it would stay the same.

Santana: I want it to be. I hate it

Brittany: When my time machine is complete, I'll call you, okay? You can go back to whenever you want

Santana: ok, i'll remember...promise you'll never stop being my best friend? you promise you'll never like anyone better?

Brittany: I promise that even when we die in 102 years that you'll still be my very best friend and nothing will change that. And I promise that I'll never like anyone more than you. Do you promise?

Santana: I promise. So…are you quitting?

Brittany: I don't know… I haven't decided yet. If I do, you're going to hate me aren't you?

Santana: I'll never hate you.

Brittany: I think I'll stay in the Cheerios, just in case. Probably.

**Texts**

**Santana:** Brittany says she might quit cheerleading

**Rachel:** Um... Hello to you, too. Did she say why?

**Santana:** because Sue is crazy or something.

**Santana:** I don't want her to quit.

**Rachel:** Well, Sue is sort of crazy, yes... I can understand why she'd want to quit.

**Rachel:** Besides that she's your friend, why don't you want her to quit?

**Santana:** because I don't want to quit!

**Santana:** we've done Cheerios for three years now!

**Santana:** we're the unholy trinity because of that!

**Santana:** if she doesn't cheer then that's all gone and it won't be the same and it already isn't because of TINA

**Santana:** I can't cheer without Brittany!

**Santana:** i'm trying to get Mami to let me back on and now she's quitting!

**Rachel:** You've been off the Cheerios for nearly a month now and you've still got all your power. Maybe some of next years freshmen will have to be 'put in their place' or something, but for all intents, no one messes with you without feeling the fires of hell from you or Quinn.

**Rachel:** You don't need Cheerios to protect you, Santana. You're better than that.

**Santana:** you don't get it at all.

**Santana:** we won't always be anything. we don't even hardly hang out together as all three of us anymore

**Santana:** I don't have any power, I think everyone knows everything about me now and that's THEM having power even if they're too scared to do anything about it

**Santana:** I have to get back on Cheerios. I'm almost back and now she won't be there and I need her there too

**Rachel:** You don't need Cheerios to be friends. And how would anyone know anything? Unless Quinn has mentioned something, no one else knows what's going on with you at all.

**Rachel:** You're paranoid, and scared, and I get that, but honestly, I thought you were started to realize that all your power and strength comes from YOU. Not the fear of mindless high school children.

**Santana:** you think Sue wouldn't tell them? the entire school has to know by now

**Santana:** you think YOUR ex finnsanity tubson wouldn't tell everyone he knew and laugh over it?

**Santana:** they have to be afraid. otherwise they'd all be laughing and getting in my face over it, so it must be that they're still afraid

**Rachel:** Sue is crazy, but I can't imagine she would ever, ever spread something like that. If only because really, the politics of the pions are below her.

**Rachel:** If there's one thing Sue and I both agree on is that we're better than everyone else in that stupid school.

**Rachel:** That said, how would Finn know any of it? He has nothing to do with this whatsoever.

**Rachel:** Finally, stop making excuses. You're scared. You're terrified. You have no idea how to function without the Cheerios. But the truth is, you've been doing it for nearly a month.

**Rachel:** You don't need them, Santana.

**Santana:** yes I do!

**Santana:** I'm gonna lose all my flexibility, I'm gonna lose muscle and endurance and strength and I've already gained weight, i'm gonna lose scholarships and everyone DOES know,they know I wouldn't just quit, they KNOW

**Santana:** that's what ties me and britt and q together and it's gonna be gone and they'll just waltz off to Asian fixation and trouty mouth and Quinn will be the only cheerio and i'll just have stupid glee and i'm friggin backup there

**Rachel:** You can easily maintain all of that on your own. You know how to work out, Santana. You are still more than eligible for scholarships as well.

**Rachel:** But, we finally reach the real problem here.

**Rachel:** Cheerios won't keep you, Brittany, and Quinn together if none of you put equal effort into. And honestly... all three of you have been pushing one another away... And... yes... Part of that is my fault. Maybe a lot of it is my fault. Maybe everything is my fault and you'd have been better of never knowing me. I don't know, Santana.

**Rachel:** But a school sport won't fix things no matter how much you wish it would. Just like Glee hasn't fixed any of my problems, no matter how much I wish it would every night

**Rachel:** Also, you're more than back up. You won us Sectionals, remember? And you are talented. And beautiful. And strong. You just have to stop making excuses and actually take what you want, and stop relying on other things to fix your life for you. No one can do that but you.

**Santana:** I hate when you go into inspirational speech mode. I can't take what I want if it involves other people.I just want things to be the same and not be changed. Like they were.

**Rachel:** You hate a lot of the things I do. I've accepted that finally.

**Rachel:** Nothing can ever go back like it was, Santana... That's imposible. All you can do is make it better than it is.

**Rachel:** If you want your friends back so badly, go get them back. Focus on them, not Cheerios. They're the only reason you want on the team anyway, remember? You need your friends, not cheerleaders you can't stand.

**Santana:** not the only reason. I look hot in the uniform.

**Santana:** and it keeps me in shape. respect

**Santana:** i think they don't need me.

**Rachel:** You always look hot, you can get respect without pretending to be something your not (a whorish, semi-intelligent cheerleader), and as I already said, you know how to stay in shape.

**Rachel:** They do. Just as much as you need them. But you've all been so busy convincing yourselves that you're losing each other that you're looking for ways to not get hurt, via pushing each other away.

**Rachel:** You want your friends? Fight for them. You want respect? Fight for it. You want your life back? Fight for it.

**Santana:** you don't run out of speeches, do you?

**Santana:** how exactly do I fight? take up an ax and say "NEVER LEAVE ME!"

**Rachel:** Considering how often I have to give them to myself? No, I don't.

**Rachel:** You need to figure that out on your own. How would you want someone to prove they still needed you? Think about that, then do it.

**Santana:** They're not me though.

**Santana:** whatever. sorry. i'll figure it out or whatever.

**Rachel:** You can do it. They love and miss you, just as much as you miss them, I'm sure.

**Santana:** maybe. idk

**S:** idk why mami won't just let me go back already. she's being such a dictator, I mean come on, 1.5 pounds, what's the friggin difference, that's like nothing

**Rachel:** It's can be all the difference in the world, Santana.

**Santana:** that's stupid, i'm good enough. more than

**Rachel:** So you eat regularly without your mother watching and you don't feel the need to throw it back up 5 minutes later?

**Santana:** ...shut up.

**S:** that has nothing to do with my weight.

**S:** she just said once i'm at a certain weight I can join again. she didn't give other conditions.

**Rachel:** You know exactly how I feel about this entire situation. As far as your health goes, I'm with your mother on this 100%

**Santana:** yeah, yeah, I KNOW

88

**(Later, texts)**

**Santana:** people keep asking me if we're together

**Rachel:** Um... I'm sorry?

**Santana:** why are you sorry?

Rachel: Because you only text me when you're upset, or want sex, so I assumed you must be upset about it.

Santana: I do NOT get upset all the time!

Rachel: I didn't say all the time. Just when you text me, assuming it's not going to lead to sex

Santana: but I text you all the time. do the math.

Rachel: I wouldn't say you text me ALL the time. It's just that, when you DO text me, you're upset. One does not automatically equal the other

Santana: yes it does!

S: god you make me want to beat my head against a wall

Santana: or maybe just yours

Rachel: But it doesn't. Unless you are texting me 24/7, which you do not, you ONLY text me when you are upset or want cuddling or sex or cuddling and sex. It's-Rachel: Okay. Let's say within a span of 7 days, you're upset 2 of those days. You'll text me those two days, and not the other. All I'm saying is that you text me because you're upset. Whether that's often or not isn't really the issue here.

S: whatever. why are you keeping track? anal much?

S: I don't even remember why I texted you todayanymore

Rachel: You were upset over something. I think people asking why we are no longer together...I didn't keep track on purpose. It's just things I remember without thinking about them.

S: oh, right. I was NOT upset. I was sharing

Rachel: It seemed as though you were upset. I apologize, though.

S:new topic, PLEASE

Rachel: I miss you…

S: …oh.

S: uh.

S: I…don't not miss

Rachel: That's… That's good… Um…

Rachel: I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything.

S: It's ok.

S: I think.

Rachel: How have your classes been? We don't share any, so…

S: ok. class. Rachel…I miss you

Rachel: Can we just…Try to start over? Or… something… It's just that I…

Rachel: Can we at least walk together to class? Maybe?

S: I…Yeah. I guess. Walk to class.

Rachel: Thank you. Thank you so much. I promise not to talk if you don't want me to.

S: You can talk.

**88**

Santana was starting to forget why she had ever broken up with Rachel in the first place.

Well, not really. There was no way she could REALLY forget that, or even fully forgive her for it. The moment that Rachel had pulled her into the auditorium after school and told her that she had told Santana's mother about her eating disorder, or, as Santana still stubbornly referred to it as, her "eating thing," was burned forever, she was sure, into her mind and her heart, and she was certain she would never really let go of at least a small piece of the anger and betrayal that this day had imbedded within her. Rachel Berry had been one of the two people she loved and trusted and confided in, two out of all the world and all her life, and she had used that trust against her, even if it was with pure intentions to help. Santana didn't want the help, even if she did need it- she still didn't want it, even nearly two months later. Why did Rachel think that she had the right to force it on her, and even now, she still maintained the "tough love" outlook of continually maintaining that she would not budge on her stance of the correctness of her own actions, and of Santana's mother's now?

So she couldn't FORGET why she had broken up with Rachel. But she was starting to rethink why she was STAYING broken up with her.

In general things were starting to slowly change for Santana, without her quite having noticed it at first. It started, she guessed, with Alma Lopez backing off from directly provoking her nearly as much as she had, maybe because Maribel's continued fierce defense for her made it clear she would not accept it without a battle that the older woman often actually lost. Maybe she was starting to realize that she was in the wrong; more likely, she was simply too proud to continuing looking foolish waging a battle she lost every time. Whatever the case, the slightly reduced stress and anger at home made it a little easier for her everywhere else.

On a related note, she had gained almost enough weight to join back to the Cheerios, though it seemed especially hard for her to gain back the one pound she needed, per her mother, to be allowed to do so. Santana didn't know if this was because she was still avoiding meals at school or if this was a control thing on her own part, unconsciously refusing to meet her mother's requirements by so small an amount, but she was beginning to get tired of her mother's unwavering insistence, each time she weighed her, that yes, one pound did matter and would keep her off Cheerios for as long as it remained MIA. She was starting to toy with the idea of actually trying to gain it, just so she could be more forcefully active every day again, rather than having any weight gain happen totally against her wishes and beyond her control.

It was still difficult to get through meals, and the thoughts and feelings of self-disgust and urges to exercise or vomit after meals were still strong for her. She still needed her mother to sit with her afterwards, but not for as long of periods of time as she had before, and it was becoming infrequent for her to cry or need her mother to more actively comfort her rather than simply sit and talk with her. It was the therapy that Santana actively hated. So far she had been three different times, and the first time she had basically cursed the woman out every way she could think of, actively trying to piss her off enough that she would demand Santana never be sent back. When that hadn't worked, she had spent the second session in complete silence, refusing to uncross her arms, lift her head, or even look towards the woman. When that hadn't worked either, and she had gotten desperately bored in the process, she spent the third session attempting to answer her in sentences as short as possible, limiting herself, for her own entertainment, to only be able to use a total of five different words in any response she might give.

In other words, she had done everything she could to be completely impossible, and yet either the woman hadn't shared this with her mother, or her mother had some secret agenda that Santana didn't get at all. Because every time she came out the office door, her mother would hug her, kiss her forehead, and say, "I'm so proud of you, mija."

Totally weird. But the thing about it was it was actually starting to make her feel sort of bad, like she should quit being such a stubborn bitch towards the woman and actually hold a conversation. And maybe that was exactly what her mother intended all along.

So all of this was hard, but not as overwhelmingly impossible and emotional as it had been for her at first. Things with Brittany and Quinn were better, although Santana couldn't deny that she was still very, very jealous every time she saw that Brittany was still buddy-buddy with Tina. The fact that they had called each other GORGEOUS and she knew they hung out WITHOUT HER THERE OR BEING ASKED TO JOIN drove her crazy, but she guessed when she forced herself to think logically about it that she had no room to protest, since she had broken up with Brittany and since she still texted Rachel (though NOT, as Rachel insisted, only when she was upset). Still, it was better, and she knew the two blondes were there for her if she needed them to be.

Still…Rachel. As much as she had tried to deny it even to herself, she missed Rachel. When she was bored or sad or lonely, angry or in a rare good mood, the first person she thought about talking to, automatically, was Rachel, and sometimes that was exactly what she did. The more time passed the more she did miss the little things she had taken for granted and even been annoyed by before, like Rachel calling her "dear" or her indignant shock when Santana pushed her past what she considered propriety, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled or how she had looked at her with such pure love in her eyes that it was almost frightening to see. Santana missed being able to go to Rachel or have her come to her no matter what or when or why, without needing to justify wanting or asking for it, and she definitely missed the feel of Rachel curled up in her arms, of Rachel's thick hair between her fingers and her breath against her neck, her lips against…

She missed her. Missed her to the point that she was starting to mention her to her mother often enough that Maribel was starting to raise an eyebrow each time, enough that she had actually consented to start walking to classes with her again. Enough that she found herself texting her FIRST, when she wasn't upset, and actually caring if she answered her back.

The thing about it was…that Santana was starting to wonder if Rachel didn't miss or want her anymore. If she had waited too late, and Rachel no longer cared. Maybe Rachel was sick of her and all her issues, or maybe she liked someone else now. Whatever the case, she couldn't help but notice that just as she was starting to draw closer to Rachel, open to letting her back in, Rachel seemed to be pulling away.

Rachel didn't answer texts right away, or carry on long-winded conversations. Sometimes, in fact, she barely answered at all. Rachel didn't laugh or smile or even look particularly guilt-stricken. In fact, when Santana thought about it, Rachel was talking in general a whole lot less than was normal for her.

It was really strange, and when Santana thought about it, it made her feel uneasy and weird, like it must be her fault, like she must have done something. But she thought Rachel wanted to be around her. Hadn't she been the one to ask to walk to class together? Had she changed her mind and was too nice to say so?

The thought of Rachel changing her mind and no longer wanting her hurt more deeply than she would have predicted, and Santana didn't' even bother to ask, for fear of what the answer might be. But she did wonder, in silence, for the first time, what was going through Rachel's head, because for the first time, Rachel wasn't' sharing.

88

**Facebook status:**

Santana Lopez: Someone is going to tell me what's going on or being done to Rachel. NOW.

Private messages

Brittany: Have you not been paying attention?

Santana: Brittany, TELL ME!

Brittany: Skanks.

Santana: …what did they do?

Brittany: The Skanks + Rachel. You do the math. I can tell you one thing, they aren't getting vocal lessons.

Santana: Are they being mean to her? What are they doing? Threatening her? Taking stuff from her? Are they HURTING her?!

Brittany: Duh.

Santana:..WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?! They're HURTING HER?!

Brittany: Because I thought it was pretty obvious that Rachel didn't just become friends with them.

Santana: What..does everyone know this and no one told me, no one helped her?!

Brittany: Personally, I was scared to do anything. I didn't want them to like, pin me down and dye my hair green or something.

Santana: WelI I'm gonna beat the until their faces are green!

**Calls**

**Santana:** (calls. Over and over and over and over until she gets an answer)

**Rachel:** [wakes up from sleeping, groggily answers phone without checking it] Hello...?

**Santana:** (voice much louder and more agitated than is probably wise) Rachel, what the hell is going on, are people doing something to you, are you going to do something stupid like hurt yourself or take a bunch of pills or something? What's going on, you have to tell me what's going on and don't you dare not tell me because you have to tell me, everyone knows but me and I have to know!

**Rachel:** Um... what...? [sits up a little in her bed] Santana? Why- Santana I'm not- [waits for santana to stop speaking before finally speaking herself] I'm not doing anything, and nothing is happening. And why are you yelling?

**Santana:** Something has to happening, something is wrong! People keep saying something will happen to you or is happening to you and it's my fault and I just haven't noticed and that's why you keep running and they're all acting like something horrible is going on and you've been all weird, I don't believe you, something is going on! (pacing the room, still talking too loudly) You tell me what's going on, Rachel, or I swear I will beat up every person in the school if I have to until someone spills!

**Rachel:** Please don't get expelled... Everything is fine. People are just spreading rumors or something. That's all.

**Santana:** No I don't believe it! You ran away from me and they're saying it's because something is happening or going to happen and I'm not noticing shit, no, Rachel, you tell me what I'm not noticing, you tell me or I'll do it, I'll go kick every single person's ass and SOMEONE will tell me!

**Rachel:** There's nothing going on that you need to worry about! Everything is fine and I can handle it. Just- Just go to bed, Santana. It's 11:30. Goodnight. [clicks off phone, turning it off as well, before curling up in her bed and shutting her eyes tightly, sniffling]

**Santana:** YOU CAN HANDLE IT?! That means something is going on?! Did you just hang up on me, Rachel, don't you dare hang up on me, I swear-(growls into phone, kicks several nearby objects, then continues to call, over and over and over) IF YOU DON'T ANSWER I SWEAR I'LL COME BANGING ON YOUR DOOR!

88

Rachel was cornered in the Choir room, back to a wall, hands pinned and a tight grip on her hair. The Skanks had gotten beyond brave, and no longer even worried about leaving marks, which was why Rachel's face was still stinging from several chest heaved, and there were tears in the corners of her eyes that she refused to let fall, despite another slap echoing across her cheek and into the room.

"Talk, bitch. What did you tell Lopez?!" screamed the leader of the three girls, and Rachel swallowed heavily, her face aching.

"N-nothing," she wheezed out. "I didn't-"

Another hard slap, and this time Rachel cried out as her hair was tugged hard, exposing her neck."Don't fuckin' lie ta us! She's been on a fuckin' manhaunt all day and we know it's cause of you! So talk, _or else!_"

Rachel's mind raced as her head spun, and she only managed to shake her head. She hadn't told Santana anything, but Tina had seen, and-She had told Tina not to say a word, but clearly she had, and now-

There was no way Rachel was about to mention Tina _at all_.This time, they punched her choked, air rushing out of her, unable to double over due to the tight grip the other two girls had on her wrists and the tighter hold on her hair that was keeping her head back.

"Fuckin _talk!"_screamed the Skank, her face red and eyes wild. She punched Rachel again, and the smaller girl coughed, choking for air. But she didn't say a word, and only a few tears streamed down her face without her consent. "God damn little bitch!"

Then a hand was on neck, and squeezing, her head slammed back against the wall behind her, and all Rachel could wonder was, if she'd just given in, and told Santana everything, would someone have saved her?

Doing classwork had been about the last thing on Santana's mind today. Her main mission and focus had been finding out which Skanks specifically, at what times and locations, had ever so much as looked at had been stalking them all, verbally and physically threatening, trying to figure out which, if any, were even looking towards Rachel, but around Santana, at least, they were backing off and denying all. Which was infuriating. She knew, KNEW it must be true, because why would Brittany lie about it, that they were hurting Rachel? And yet none would admit it, and without proof…

She had had to give up her investigation for the length of time it took to be at Cheerios practice, but after this was over, she still had one last mission for herself- if the Skanks wouldn't talk, maybe Rachel would. Granted, she hadn't talked to her all day today, but if she was staying after school to practice in the choir room or auditorium, and no one else was around, maybe she would finally be able to press her into opening checked the auditorium first, and finding it empty, made her way to the choir room, still clad in her cheerleading uniform, her bag thrown over her shoulder. What she saw when she entered the doorway of the choir room, however, was enough for her to let it slip to the ground as she ran forward, adrenaline immediately kicking into an overdrive of tunnel visioned Skanks had been waiting for this time all day, she could almost guarantee, when they would be sure that Santana would have to leave them and Rachel alone. Because there they were, not only cornering Rachel, keeping her backed up against a wall, but she had seen one of them HIT her, actually HIT her, and one of them was choking her, one actually had her hand around her throat, choking her, and Rachel…Rachel was crying. Rachel was in pain, Rachel was afraid, Rachel was crying, and Santana's reaction was swift, instinctive, and didn't matter that most of the girls were taller than her and all were larger; her fury lent her a strength that was even more than her usual efforts.

Santana herself couldn't have recounted what exactly she did to get them off of Rachel, but by the end of her explosion of kicking, hitting, scratching, throwing around, and hair pulling, several girls had bloodied nose or swelling eyes, she had fistfuls of hair in both hands, and her own knuckles were scraped and bleeding, though she felt no pain from them whatsoever. She had no idea what she had been screaming at them, but a good deal of it was in Spanish, the majority of it profanity. She was aware that it ended with a death threat of some kind, and by the time she put herself directly in front of Rachel, arms spread out, as though making herself a human shield, none of them were daring to so much as move towards her.

The Skanks, bloodied and bruised, all but tripped over themselves in their haste to escape the furious Latina, at least one of them was limping, and all of them looked like they had just been attacked by a pack of wild dogs, not a single, raging Cheerio.

Huddling in the corner, coughing and crying and very much near a panic attack, Rachel sat, curled up tight, confused and terrified of what was going on. Who- what- Santana? Had that- was that Santana? Why was there screaming? And- and-

A sobbed forced its way up her chest, and she crumbled further against the wall behind her, her body shaking uncontrollably. She felt dizzy, and sick. Her throat was so _sore_. In fact, _everything _was sore; her face, her stomach, her throat, her wrists, all of it. And her eyes couldn't quite focus, partially due to the tears completely flooding them.

"M'sorry," she sobbed, voice hoarse and raw from nearly being strangled. "S'ry. S'rry. Please dun be mad. Please. M'sorry." It was all she could manage to say, over and over again. She was sorry for causing so much trouble for Santana, for crying, because Santana hated when she cried, and now she couldn't stop, and she couldn't get up, or breathe right. "M'so sorry," Rachel continued to sob and choke out, body curling up as she tried to make herself as small as possible, to just disappear.

There was not even a thought, for Santana, as to how to react. The moment her eyes turned to Rachel, and she saw her on the floor, sobbing, shaking, in as much pain as she had ever seen her, there could be only one action for her to take. She stepped forward, falling to her knees in front of her, and gathered Rachel into her arms, hugging her as tightly as she could. Smoothing back Rachel's hair from her face, she cradled the back of her head, pushing her face down into the crook of her neck and shoulder as she wrapped her arms around her, stroking her back and head, rocking them both slightly in her effort to calm her.

"Shhh…shh, it's okay," she said, her own voice almost as rough as Rachel's in her effort to try to settle herself. Her breathing and heart rate is still very much accelerated, and she is shaking herself, still feeling the aftermath of her rage, but she tries to stay as calm as possible for Rachel, to calm Rachel too. She kisses the top of her head, then her forehead and both cheeks, never ceasing her stroking of her. "It's okay, I got you, they're not gonna hurt you anymore, I promise. It's okay. Don't be sorry, it's okay."

It wasn't okay, but she was damn well gonna make it okay. More than anger, it HURT her to see Rachel so hurt, and holding her then, seeing her, a fierce rush of protectiveness for her…LOVE for her…swept over her.

God, she loved Rachel. Still.

Rachel continued to sob painfully hard, but the tension in her muscles began to unwravel as she clung to Santana's top, barely being able to comprehend what was happening. All she knew was that the Skanks were gone, at least for now, and Santana was holding her, _really _holding her, not just letting Rachel latch onto her. And she was saying words, none of which Rachel could actually make out right now, but her voice was soothing, if rough, and calm, and the hand in her hair was gentle. She was being rocked slowly, and kissed softly, and Rachel couldn't help but whimper pathetically, burrowing as much into Santana as she was physically capable of doing.

"I- I-" she tried to speak, still not quite breathing right, and still crying, "I didn't— wanna— you were—- and I thought—-" Finally, Rachel gave up speaking, choosing to just take advantage of the fact that the one person she wanted more than anyone to hold her, was finally doing so.

It probably wouldn't last; Santana was just in panic mode, or something. Once she came to her sense, it would go back to normal, but for, she needed to hold onto the cheerleader as tightly as possible, sure that, when she let go, she'd lose Santana all over again.

"Please don't leave again," begged Rachel in a hoarse whisper, between sniffles and heavy breaths. "Please. Please please please stay."

Rachel just couldn't seem to stop crying. She couldn't seem to calm down, and nothing Santana was doing seemed to be helping. It was killing Santana, hearing her, feeling her deep sobs against her chest, but she didn't say anything, gritting her teeth and enduring it. She couldn't help but feel that this was at least partly her own fault.

How could she not notice what Rachel was going through, what they were doing to her? Was everyone right, was she really that self centered that she couldn't see Rachel's suffering past her own?

Never again. Never, ever, ever. She would spend every second of the day with her if she had to.

"It's okay," she whispered in Rachel's ear, still rocking her, stroking her. "I won't leave. "I promise. I won't leave. Shhh. It's okay. I'm not gonna leave."

Eventually, the sobbing subsided, mostly in part that Rachel's body was just _too exhausted _to keep going. She was completely boneless against Santana, unable to do anything else but whimper softly and sniffling, her eyes red, swollen, and puffy, cheeks stained red, and light bruises starting to form from the earlier slaps.

"Missed you," whispered Rachel brokenly, partly from exhaustion, partly from the fact that her throat was so sore that she simply wasn't able to speak any louder than that.

She closed her eyes, letting Santana's warmth seep into her tired, sore body. She probably had bruises on her wrists again, and definitely on her stomach again, and there was a very good chance that a hand-shaped bruise was forming on her neck right now. Really, she had bruises everywhere, she was sure. The couple of days hadn't been good to Rachel at all, and the Skanks had started truly taking advantage of the fact that she was, seemingly, completely invisible to the school, and without any form of protection, even from herself…

"I… I wanted to say s-something. But.. You were… I didn't want to.. to bother you… You… you were so worried about- about Cheerios, and- and your family, and I just…" Rachel sniffled, coughing a little, the noise rough and painful sounding.

Santana only started to relax a little when she felt Rachel relax, though she suspected this was more due to complete exhaustion on her part rather than any change in her feelings. She could already see the bruises forming on Rachel's throat, on her wrists, her eyes growing red and swollen from crying, and it killed her, absolutely killed her to look down at her and see physical evidence of her hurting, knowing how long she must have been keeping silent about this. How could this have HAPPENED, how could she let this happen…

Gently she traced her finger tips over the marks, careful not to hurt, wishing she could somehow make them go away, even take them onto herself. She would gladly do it, if it would make Rachel okay. Stroking her fingers over Rachel's wrist, her neck, her cheeks and eyelids, getting her to close them first, she hugs her close, trying to show her that she had no intention at all, as Rachel seemed to fear, of leaving.

"I missed you too, mi lucero," she whispered, hearing the rough sincerity in her tone, and when Rachel kept talking, saying she wanted to tell her something but couldn't, the guilt struck her all the harder, causing her to swallow hard and hug her still more fiercely. For her, Rachel had kept quiet, because of HER issues…this was so beyond anything she had words for. She had cared about Santana so much more than herself she would let this happen to herself…

"I'm sorry," she whispered to her, kissing her head, then each closed eyelid, without another thought. "I'm sorry. I should have known, I should have kept you safe. I'm sorry."

"It's okay… I still love you… promise…" murmured Rachel, trying to stay awake. Even in this state she was aware of enough now to figure that there was a decent chance she had a minor concussion, and she knew she couldn't fall asleep, but it was so _hard_. She was sore, and exhausted, and Santana was there. She was _there_.

"I should… Need to.. stay awake… Sleepy…" Tiredly Rachel shifted, as though trying to get to her feet, but stopped by both Santana's strong arms and the fact that her body was too weak to support herself. "And… Need to… Regionals. P-practice. Homework. Gotta do.. things…" She blinked heavily, trying again to move, and failing, wincing as the bruises all around her body throbbed, causing small tears to stream down the corners of her eyes again.

There was so much she needed to do, and take care of, and she needed to shower, badly. Or sleep, but she couldn't do that. So, she just, she needed to get out of the school, more than anything. She wanted to be somewhere safe, preferably somewhere that meant she could stay in Santana's arms. Subconciously, she leaned heavier into Santana's body, despite the fact she had just gotten saying that she needed to get up and work on things.

She still loved her. After all this, she still loved her, was in fact telling her it was okay, as obviously not okay as things were. Rachel STILL loved her, and Santana swallowed, lifting her eyes to the ceiling for control before she could speak.

"Yeah, you're right, you gotta stay awake. Did they hit your head? 'Cause concussions are no joke…maybe we oughtta get you to a doctor, Rachel. I'd bring you to my dad except he's not home now, so hospital maybe…you're not doing anything, okay? No homework, nothing. No school tomorrow…what we're gonna do…I'm gonna sit here with you a while, and then we're gonna take you to a doctor, maybe…then take you home. And I'll stay with you until you feel better, okay?"

She wiped at the tears in the corners of Rachel's eyes with her thumb, biting the inside of her cheeks and wrapping her arm more securely around Rachel's waist. Several breaths in, and then she said in a rush in Rachel's ear, "I love you too. It's going to be okay."

Rachel nodded weakly, the fight gone from her. Even if a part of her wanted to be stubborn about this, she just didn't have the strength for it. "Okay…" she agreed easily, forcing her eyes to open up, even just a little, and softly kiss Santana's clavicle over her top.

And when the other girl said those three, four words, Rachel felt herself fall apart all over again on the inside; but this time it was her walls, the ones she had been building since the breakup to protect herself. They shattered, utterly and completely, leaving Rachel feeling vulnerable and exposed, with no way to shield herself anymore if Santana decided to change her mind.

"Okay…" she said again, voice minutely stronger, though not by much. "And… I… we need to… we need to call my daddies. They… um… they can pay for the… the h'spital. And- and-" she sniffled again, hiding her face in Santana's chest, despite how much it ached, and the way her head pounded from the pain and all of the crying. "Can we- can you- Can you h-hold me tonight? P-please?"

Santana's heart lurched as Rachel kissed her, feeling the heat of her lips even through the material of her uniform, and she drew in another breath, trying to steady herself. As Rachel agreed with her suggestions, then hid her face in her chest again, Santana smoothed her hand over Rachel's back, letting her do as she needed to feel safe.

Her response to Rachel's tearful request took no time at all to consider. Of course she would hold her. She didn't care what anyone in the world would think or say about it, Rachel was asking and she wanted to, she even sort of needed to, to know she'd be okay.

"Yeah," she said quietly, nodding. "Yeah, I will. I promise."

Slowly she tried to get Rachel to her feet, her arms still around her as she began to guide her, once Rachel was more composed, out the choir room and towards the car.


	44. Chapter 44

**Texts**

**Santana:** Brittany...I feel so bad

**Santana:** why didn't anyone tell me about Rachel

**Santana:** i've been stupid and selfish and i didn't even notice

**Santana:** she could have died

**Brittany:** Cause we all dont want to get beat up for telling.

**Brittany:** You've had stuff going on in your life. You cant babysit Rachel.

**S:** i wouldnt beat you up

**S:** i should've though!

**B:** Not you, them. Although the threat of using your nails as razors could make people think you're going to beat them up if they didn't tell. Like myself.

**B:** Rachel is a big girl, Santana you dont have to watch her every move. Yes, her getting beat up is awful and we all wish it wouldn't have happened, but if she wanted it to stop she shouldve told you and not Tina.

**S:** I wouldn't ever beat you up

**S:** Yes i do i should have they were hurting her and i should have stopped it or seen or something...

**S:** TINA knew?!

**B:** You think of things so weirdly. Like, it's totally not your job to watch her every move.

**B:** Well, duh, how do you think I found out.

**S:** It's my job to keep her from being hurt.

**S:** I'm killing Tina.

**B:** No, it's not. With a job you get paid, as far as I know, you're not getting paid.

**B:** Don't, Santana. I won't talk to you for a week if you do anything or say anything mean to Tina.

**S:** It's my DUTY then and my choice

**S:** yes you will too because we're best friends and anyway you owe me. You should have told me too.

**B:** But you also have to realize that you can't do it 24/7.

**B:** I swear on Tubbington if you do anything to Tina no more us for a week. And I did tell you, you would've never found out if it weren't for me.

**S:** I should.

**S:** ...you like her better than me.

**S:** you're cuddling her and now you won't even talk to me when she let Rachel get hurt

**S:** you like her better and it doesn't even matter to you that Rachel got hurt!

**S:** you didn't see her Brittany, it was awful, I can't even stand to think about it and I can't stand to hardly look at her and she coudl have died, she was crying so much I couldn't take it and she's SCARED and you don't even care and now you're not gonna talk to me and it's Tina's fault! and you like her better!

**S:** I need you and you're not gonna talk to me because you like tina better, why are you doing this?!

**B:** You always say that, and I don't like her more, I like her in a way different than I like you. And you cuddle Rachel, it's not that big of a deal.

**B:** I do think it is awful that Rachel got beat up, I feel bad for her. And I do care that it's happening, Rachel is a good person and doesn't deserve what she got so don't even think I don't.

**B:** Because I really, really like Tina and you hurting her would just kill me. That's why I won't talk to you if you do something to her.

**S:** You do too like her more. You would never stop talking to her for a week when she needed you, never

**S:** It's killing me what happened to Rachel. It's killing me and I can't let Rachel know that so I gotta kill Tina, that's just how it is

**S:** You love her, don't you?

**B:** Yes I would, if she was going to beat someone up, but Tina would never do that.

**B:** I know it is, but that's still no excuse to hurt Tina.

**B:** It doesn't matter. What matters is that you're threatening her and I don't like it.

**S:** ...FINE I won't beat her up but I'll scare her and make her feel bad LIKE SHE SHOULD and yell at her a lot

**S:** it does matter.

**B:** No, you won't Santana, you'll sit down and talk to her like a mature person.

**B:** Why?

**S:** Like hell I will!

**S:** Because.

**S:** It does.

**B:** Whatever.

**B:** I don't know if I do or not, but I like her a ton.

**S:** even though she has stupid fashion sense and she fake stuttered and she's always rolling her eyes and she kept her mouth shut and got Rachel all beat to hell and thinks she's better than me?

**B:** Goodnight Santana.

**S:** No, I'm not going to bed!

**S:** I'm talking to you Brittany!

**S:** are you going to start ignoring me now?

**S:** how can you ignore me?!

**S:** you're supposed to be my best friend!

**S:** we said forever and always!

**B:** We are best friends, but all you do is trash Tina and I don't want to hear it or read it or anything else. Since you and Rachel started dating, I've barely said any mean things about Rachel, not even to other people. Every time Tina is brought up in any conversation you make fun of her and say mean things. She doesn't deserve that, she's never done anything to you.

**S:** SHE LET RACHEL GET BEAT UP!

**S:** She acts like she's better than me!

**S:** she makes you like her better and she LET RACHEL GET BEAT UP!

**B:** 1) That's not you, that's Rachel. 2) She didn't let her get beat up she told me so I could tell you so she didn't break her promise to Rachel. 3) Even before this all you still said mean things so none of that even matters.

**B:** How does she act like she's better than you? She doesn't not at all. More than likely the only time she ever sees you is at school, and at school she hardly talks.

**S:** yes she does. she just does. and she didn't tell me, she told YOU, and you only told me when I ASKED YOU what was going on,and it doesn't matter that it's not me it's Rachel and that's the same thing

**B:** Whatever, no she doesn't. Exactly which is why you should be mad at me and not her. Tina was only trying to be a good friend to Rachel. So you and Rachel have like, morphed together now because that's the only way it'd be the same thing.

**S:** maybe I am mad at you.

**S:** we didn't MORPH into anything

**S:** why are you being like this?

**B:** And even though I'm mad at you too, I love you and you're my best friend. Just thought I'd put that out there.

**B:** Because you're being mean.

**B:** I'm going to bed now. Goodnight again, Santana.

**S:** YOU'RE being mean!

**S:** You better not ignore me!

**B:** Not ignoring you, going to sleep because I'm sleepy and I have dreams waiting on me. Goodnight once again.

**S:** You said you were gonna ignore me!

**B:** If you are mean to Tina. You haven't hurt her or yelled or whatever at her yet, so I'm not ignoring you.

**B:** Can I go to sleep since I'm not ignoring you?

**S:** whatever.

**S:** Please stop ignoring me

**B:** Have you apologized for being a meanie head?

**S:** I stopped being one, isn't that good enough?

**B:** True. But can you at least try to be nicer to Tina? Pretty please?

**S:** mmmmmm

**B:** Please?

**S:** can't ignoring her do?

**B:** Sometimes, but you can't ignore her all the time.

**S:** I totally could, i'll just sing inside my head when she talks

**B:** That's not cool. If you just acted a little nice when you're around each other, that would make me the happiest girl in the whole entire world. Please, Sanny?

**S:** ugghhhh

**B:** I'll do anything so you'll be a little nicer. Seriously, anything.

**S:** really?

**S:** why does it matter to you so much?

**B:** Yes really.

**B:** Because I'm closer to you two than I am to anyone else and so it makes me sad that every time you guys talk to each other it winds up in a fight.

**S:** i can't help it. she aggravates me

**B:** And why does she?

**B:** Please don't tell me because she thinks she's better than you.

**S:** I can't tell you then.

**B:** I'm your best friend, you have to tell me all the reasons you don't like her. There has to be more to it than that.

**S:** because.

**S:** you like her better.

**S:** and she's annoying

**S:** and cries a lot

**S:** and dresses stupid

**S:** and rolls her eyes

**S:** and thinks she's smarter than everyone

**S:** and she DOES think she's better than me.

**B:** That's a lot of stuff and I have to disagree with most of it.

**B:** I guess I can't make you be nice to her, so that means I'll just be a sad little panda for the rest of my life..

**S:** noooo I don't like you sad

**B:** I know, me either. But, it's just something we're all going to have to get used too. The sadness in me, it's so strong, it's telling me to lay in bed all day and eat candy until you two can get along.

**S:** ...you are not fair.

**S:** I can't take anymore sad. Rachel's sad and I can't stand for you to be sad too...stop it

**B:** I can't help how I feel.

**S:** yes you can. just stop being sad.

**S:** I can't control if I like Tina or not either.

**B:** I wish you could like her though...

**S:** I wish you weren't sad.

**S:** can't you just like get over it?

88

Santana did not want to leave Rachel. Not for one second, let alone for one night. She didn't want to stop holding her and doing whatever she could to comfort her and make her feel better and safe, whatever it took. She didn't want to even look away from her, for fear that Rachel would be afraid or hurting or scared or lonely without her, and even with her fathers there to take care of her, somehow Santana didn't trust that they would do everything that she could do for her to make her okay.

She didn't want to leave her, and she had skipped school especially to stay with her. Classes and Cheerios be damned, she had texted Brittany in the morning and told her to tell Sue that her mother was yanking her out of Cheerios for the day, and to make it sound like it was related to a relapse in weight loss. It could very well be true, for all Santana knew; she hadn't eaten more than a few bites of any meal since lunch the day before, this time not because she was overly concerned with her weight, but rather because she was so anxious and upset over Rachel internally that she genuinely didn't think she would be able to keep it down. She said nothing about it to Rachel, of course, and she made sure to continually offer her food and help her eat, showing in front of Rachel that she had food and was eating too, even if she was actually pretending to consume more than she really was. Regardless of any of that, whether or not Sue would be pissed off or choose to yank her from the squad entirely if she thought that Santana was too unstable to remain, Santana didn't care. She was staying with Rachel and there was nothing anyone could do to make her want otherwise.

She intended to ignore her promise to her mother and stay with her throughout the next night too, but when the ignored calls to her cell were eventually directed to the Berrys' home, Santana knew she couldn't dodge her much longer and had to take the call when one of Rachel's fathers handed the phone to her. And when Maribel made it clear that she was coming home for the night, even if she had to come pick her up herself, even if it meant bringing Rachel in tow with her, Santana had to acknowledge defeat.

She hadn't taken Rachel with her; the thought of Alma seeing her in such a physically and emotionally fragile state made her sick and furious to even think about, and so she had hugged her, repeatedly kissed her cheeks, forehead, and finally her lips, assuring her over and over that she would be back, she would see her tomorrow, that Rachel could call and text her and she promised she'd answer. She had had left the house only with extreme reluctance, and by the time she had driven herself home she was already contemplating turning back around, defying her mother, and simply refusing to leave. Let Maribel drag her out, would her mom really risk upsetting Rachel like that?

The thing was, Santana wasn't entirely sure if she would or not, so in the end she did pull into her own driveway and start to walk towards her own front door. Every step of the way she dreaded it and regretted doing so, wanting only to turn around and go back to Rachel, where it seemed the only place she should be. How could she just go home and be in her own room by herself, in perfectly fine physical condition, with Rachel all by herself concussed and beaten in her own room, probably needing her help just to go to sleep, how could she make her dads keep helping her eat and shower and everything she needed when it was her fault it even happened, not theirs?

By the time she got inside the home and saw her mother in the kitchen, waiting for her, Santana was in no mood for any questions Maribel might have to throw her way. But Maribel had no such intention of letting Santana slip past her, as she attempted to do.

"No, I don't think so, Santana," she shook her head at her, crossing the room to take hold of her arm and gently tug her back. "You need to sit down and speak with me."

"Mami, come on, I'm tired," she tried, attempting to pull her arm from her mother's grasp. "I don't want to talk, I just-"

"And that is why you need to," Maribel cut her off, maintaining her hold of her even as she placed her other hand on Santana's shoulder, guiding her towards one of the chairs at the kitchen table and pressing down on her for her to sit before taking the chair beside her. "I'm sure it has been a difficult time for you, mija. Sit. Talk."

Santana scowled instead; it was strange, how her mother's persistent concern for her could simultaneously irritate her and also bring tears of weird and unwelcome gratitude to her eyes. She lowered her gaze to the table, crossing her arms over her chest, and stubbornly said nothing. Even so she could practically feel her mother's eyes on her, and when Maribel's hand reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, she had to bite the inside of her cheeks to keep herself stoic.

"I am sorry for what happened to Rachel, Corazon," she said quietly. "She's a sweet girl and I know you do still care for her, regardless of what has happened between you. It's a terrible thing and it was sweet of you to stay with her. I hope you do understand though, Santana, that what happened to her was not your fault?"

This was all it took, a few sentences and one small touch, for her resolve to crack. Without wanting it to happen at all, Santana felt her face twist up with sudden tears, and she kept her face down, tears beginning to drop towards her lap. Maribel scooted her chair closer, reaching out for her and pulling her into a gentle hug, and Santana let her face drop down onto her mother's shoulder as she sobbed, her voice muffled against her.

"Yes it was, yes it was…I didn't know, I wasn't paying attention and they were just, they were doing this all the time, every day, and I didn't see how sad she was… they were hurting her, Mami, and I didn't know, she just let them do it and she didn't say anything…no one told me, no one helped her and they could have killed her…"

Maribel hugged her in silence, not telling her to be quiet or that it was okay; it was one thing Santana deeply appreciated about her mother in that particular moment, that she never tried to stop her from feeling her feelings. Her mother held her, stroking back her hair, and let her finish out.

"It wouldn't have happened if I didn't break up with her, they never would have touched her…it wouldn't have happened, Mami. I made this happen. I didn't keep her safe."

Maribel waited until Santana's crying had subsided, until she was mostly simply leaning into her, occasionally sniffling, before moving. She rubbed circles into her daughter's back for a few more moments before pulling back, wiping Santana's cheeks with her thumbs and then taking hold of both her hands, looking her in the eyes as she spoke.

"Listen to me, carina. You did what you felt you had to do in the moment when you broke up with her. Perhaps it wasn't kind, perhaps it wasn't right, but that is over and done with and looking back and regretting now will help no one. If you love Rachel, if you wish to be with Rachel, then that is a place to move forward with rather than one to look behind towards. But know this, mija, if you are to get back with Rachel, it will do her no good and be no favor to her if you do so out of guilt or pity. If you are with Rachel it is because you love her and you want her in your life and not because you feel badly over what has happened to her. Do you understand this?"

She waited for Santana's faint nod before squeezing her hands, continuing. "Moreover, mija, you must know and understand now that what others did to Rachel has no correlation on anything you have done to Rachel. They hurt her because they chose to, and you have no fault or part in that. You did not ask them to do so or want them to do so, and if they use the excuse of another's actions for their own then that is their folly. It was not your fault, you did not know, and you did not want it, and that is where that particular line of thinking ends. Yes?"

She released one of Santana's hands to stroke her cheek, wiping a stray tear that was emerging. "You helped her, Santana. You helped her and you have spent all day being there for her. No one could ask much more than that."

She kept her hand on Santana's cheek, waiting for the few tears still welling up to stop before she released her, taking up her hand again. "Have you eaten today? Full meals?" When Santana attempted to avert her eyes, Maribel shook her head, sighing.

"Hear this to, mija. You will not use this as an excuse for relapse. Do you understand me? You will continue to eat, you will allow your body to maintain nourishment, and you will not lose weight. This is not a choice on your part, Corazon. If you do not, you will not only not be allowed to participate in Cheerios, you will also not be allowed to stay with Rachel, and I am not bluffing on this. You are going to eat right now and then we are checking your weight, and then I want you to rest."

"Mami, you can't tell me not to go to Rachel's, she NEEDS me!" Santana blurted, scrambling to her feet in genuine horror, but her mother looked back at her with equal, perhaps greater determination in her features.

"Let me tell you what Rachel needs, Santana. She needs to focus on herself and her own recovery and she needs your support to do it. She cannot focus on herself if she is focused on worrying about you, and you can be no help to her at all if you are not well. If you truly wish to help her and give her what she needs, then you must first take care of yourself and make sure you are not ill. You wish to help her, to ease her worries, give her comfort? Then eat, sleep, and maintain your weight. If you cannot do that, then I will be glad to continue to help you as much as you need. But if you need so much of my help, Santana, you certainly cannot be expected to be able to provide help to others." Maribel shrugged, knowing from her daughter's expression that this was hitting her hard, but although her smile back at her was sympathetic, it was firm. "Trying to help while you need help is only going to harm. Show me how you can take care of yourself and be kind to yourself and I will trust then that you can do the same for someone else."

As Santana slowly sat back down at the kitchen table, slouching, head in her hands, Maribel, seeing that the battle was won, patted her back before moving towards the refrigerator. "So tell me, Santana, what will you help me cook tonight?"

Her mother was a tough dealer…but she was right. Santana wasn't going to give Rachel anything to worry about, and if that meant she was going to have to struggle through her own shit…well damn it, she would try that much harder. Starting now.


	45. Chapter 45

**Facebook status post**

Tina: Going for a run.. or rather a jog... or more like a speed walk..

Santana: little tip, Asian fixation. you run in clompy gothy heells, your skirts will be called Tripp for a reason

Tina: Wow, you are so helpful Santana. I don't know what I would do without that sage advice

Santana: Fall a lot, probably.

Tina: I have been walking just fine, thanks. You have only been acknowledging my existence for like the last couple months

Santana: well, that's when you showed up, isn't it?

Tina: No… that's just when I started hanging out with Brittany so you sort of realized I was there

Santana: I bet you're casting spells on her. All that black, I bet you go Charmed on her every night

Tina: I am not a witch. I do not cast spells. Just because you and I don't get along doesn't mean I don't get that Brittany sees some sort of kindness in you that is completely beyond my line of sight

Santana: right, your eyes are so slitted I guess it's hard to see much

Tina: Well if it isn't the racist showing her true colors …. doesn't being a triple minority make it like close to impossible to spew crap like that?

Santana: Nope, I ain't gots any rice in my paddy, so…and it's only double, I'm a quarter white. I thought Asians are good at math, what happened to you?

Tina: And so smart too. I mean as in ethnic minority, you are female which makes you a minority and you're gay… 1, 2, 3,… triple minority. I am actually excellent at math, weirdo, because I study

Santana: Yeah, well I'm also three quarters Hispanic and one quarter white and one quarter black, smartass. So that makes me like 150% minority. Or something.

Santana: Wait that's eighths. I guess. Three quarters, one eighth,one eighth. Whatever.

Tina: Yes I am very smart and no matter how many races or ethnicities you are I am counting the fact that you aren't white as 1 even if you are 90% white unless you look it the world sees you as a minority. Being ethnic/ not white equal 1 way you are a minority again the fact that you are female is 2 and the fact that you are gay is 3

Tina: triple minority I am not counting how many different races you are thank you very much stop correcting me.

Santana: Female isn't a minority by the time you're like, thirty. And by the time you're seventy it's like, where the hell are the men? Also, in Glee club, gay is totally majority.

Tina: Where have you been? Female does make you a minority. It's the mistreatment of woman, being treated as second class citizens that makes them classified as minority… Do you even go to class? I don't mean in Glee I mean in the world and this is really besides the point.. this is about your racism

Santana: So don't act second class and people won't treat you like it. Keep them scared and they won't dare. And fyi I'm an honors student. I don't have to go to every class and do all the work to make the grades, so who's the smart one? Also, I'm not racist, I just call the truth as it is.

Tina: Saying I don't see well because my eyes are slant is plain ignorance it has nothing to do with calling it how you see it. People have hard lives and go through horrible things because doesn't give anyone a pass to be hurtful. You say things with the sole purpose to wound. If you want to hide behind the calling it how you see it that's up to you. I don't mind Oh and being on the honor role doesn't necessarily make you smart either, not that I think you aren't smart but you let your anger and ignorance get in the way so that will probably hold you back if you keep it up.

Santana: Lighten up, Sailor Moon

88

PMs

Tina: Look, if you're insulting me because you're mad about Rachel, I only just found out and Rachel made me promise not to tell you. I told Brittany, I knew she would tell you. You think I want someone hurting Rachel. Leave me alone Santana. I dont want anything happening to Rachel, she's one of the only friends i have around here. You act like you were there with her all the time...like how dare I not know and say something I found out and told Britt the next day you knew you werent there…. leave me ALONE!

Santana: Don't tell me how I wasn't there! I didn't know! I didn't know, I would have killed them!

Tina: Well dont tell me this is somehow my fault or that I would let this happen to her. I know what its like to be picked on or have the crap beaten out of you because youre different, wouldnt _let _that happen to anyone and definitely not to Rachel

Santana: You should have told a teacher. Her parents. Anyone. You shouldn't have promised her.

Tina: You dont know you werent there, you didnt see her in that moment. Dont tell me what I should or shouldn't have done. i helped the best way I knew how at the time… you got the message didnt you. I do my best to not hate you for the hurtful racist crap you say to me because you mean something to the people who mean smerhing to me… and you cant even give me the courtesy of not judging me, so how about you do me a favor and just stop talking to me all together

Santana: Fine. I'll do that for Rachel. Because she wants me to.

88

Santana was really not having a good week.

She was trying, really trying to do what her mother had told her she needed to, to be there for Rachel and to be strong for her, to take care of herself so she could help take care of Rachel. It was obvious to her that Rachel didn't need to hear or concern herself with anything but her own recovery right then. It was all Rachel could do to get through each day with her own issues, her own physical and emotional pain, her fear and her current neediness, without Santana doing anything at all to upset her and add to her stress level. Santana's job, as she saw it, was to try to make things easier for Rachel, whatever that took, however need be, so talking to her about her own shit, or even thinking about her own shit around Rachel, would be selfish and stupid.

Around Rachel, it was easy for her not to think about her own problems anyway; she found herself completely focused on the other girl, on making her as comfortable and comforted as possible, and it never even crossed her mind to try to vent to her about anything else going on. When she was with Rachel, Rachel was all that mattered. But during the times that she was apart from her, especially during the long spans of time that she was at school, her thoughts were equally divided between her concerns for Rachel and a returning focus on her own self, and as much as she was trying, it was still a struggle.

She knew her mother was right, that she had to get herself set straight, no pun intended, before she could be any good to Rachel, that she needed to worry less about herself while simultaneously making sure to address her own problems. But it was much easier said than done, and so difficult to keep from slipping into old habits.

Her focus on her weight and eating was significantly put aside when she was with Rachel; with her concern that Rachel was eating and keeping herself well, Santana found herself trying to actually set an example, at least so Rachel wouldn't have to worry, whether or not she actually wanted to. But during the times that she was apart from her, her anxiety remained high, and she found herself still struggling through meals, still thinking harshly and unrealistically about herself and her body, still feeling the urge to restrict and vomit, even though she very rarely actually managed to do so under her mother's watchful eye. She was now weighing exactly 115 pounds, her mother's minimum requirement, and remained terrified of going one pound above it. It was a stupid thing to be worried about- she knew that, all the more clearly in light of Rachel's involuntary injuries. But when apart from Rachel, she still had difficulty redirecting her thoughts.

Cheerleading was, as much as Santana hated to admit it, not a very positive thing in her life either, providing much more stress than positive self-esteem, as she was always anxious that she was going to be either pulled out again by her mother or kicked off by Sue at any minute, and she could not enjoy it, nor could she feel the same sense of power and security she once had by being part of it. And then there was the Brittany factor.

Santana still refused to make nice with Tina; by now it was an engrained matter of principle more than anything the girl herself was doing. She hated that Brittany and Rachel, the two people who mattered most to her in her life, were so impressed with her, and she hated that Brittany especially seemed to be spending more and more time with her, even defending her over Santana, who was still supposed to be her best friend. The fact that Brittany was STILL ignoring her over her being mean to TINA upset her much more than she wanted even Brittany to know…Brittany was supposed to be her best friend and her best friend only. If she was really her best friend, if she really loved her most and really would always be with her, then how could she possibly ignore her? How could she let anything Santana do to anyone make her even want to?

And then there was Rachel. Every time Santana was with her she was holding back so much of her thoughts and feelings, being there for her, helping her, trying to comfort her and cheer her, and she wouldn't let it show how much guilt and hurt it caused for Rachel to be so hurt, to feel that all of what she was going through was a result of Santana's own stupidity. If she'd paid attention, if she'd not been wrapped up in her own things, if she hadn't broken up with her, it wouldn't have ever happened, and it was hard to be with Rachel and see her this way knowing this.

She knew more than ever that she loved Rachel, and she was pretty sure she wanted to be with her again as a couple. But how did she say that when she was the reason Rachel had been hurt? Would Rachel even want her back now?

For the first few days of this Santana did pretty well with shoving all her thoughts and feelings down where no one would see, of gritting her teeth and getting through, doing what she needed for Rachel and everyone else. But the last straw came during Glee rehearsal after school, day three of Brittany still not sitting by her, still ignoring her, and still sitting by TINA, she couldn't take it. There Brittany was, not even looking at her, touching Tina, whispering and giggling with Tina, and here she was sitting by PUCK, with Rachel's empty seat in the front row, and before she could really think about it she was getting up with a muttered excuse and heading straight to the bathroom.

She had every intention of making herself vomit. Santana even went so far as to shut herself into the stall, to kneel down in front of it, and begin to take deep breaths in preparation for it, psyching herself up. But in the end, before she could even start, her thoughts drifted back to her mother, picturing her disappointment if she found out- and whatever Santana did to hide it, she was almost sure her mother would somehow know. She thought of Rachel, of how disappointed she would be, of how stupid it was to even think of deliberately hurting herself, when Rachel was hurt not by her own decision at all, and in the end she got to her feet slowly, almost painfully, and stumbled out of the stall.

She knew, even as she stood in front of the mirror, lifting her cheerleading shirt to stare at her stomach and ribs, mentally critiquing, that it wasn't her weight or eating or her body that was really upsetting her. She knew perfectly well that she was projecting her feelings over Brittany, seemingly preferring and caring more about Tina than her, onto herself, finding something to focus on that was easier to control. She knew this, but that didn't stop her from leaning against the closed stall door, covering her face with her hands, and breaking down in tears when she realized she couldn't see all her ribs.

She knew Brittany wouldn't love her more if she was thinner. She knew Rachel wouldn't be happier or healthier, that her abuela would still hate her, that she would still be gay and still be confused about her own feelings and still be jealous of anyone who got Brittany's attention and approval, that she would still find reasons to be dissatisfied with herself. She knew all of this, and she knew she would still feel exactly as she did right now. But she could almost convince herself that it was true; five less pounds, and she'd be happier. Ten less pounds, and her life would be perfect.

It was a lot easier to let herself think that, however untrue she knew it was, than to tell herself the truth, that her own behavior had a significant role in her unhappiness; it was a lot easier to lose weight than to change behavior, and a hell of a lot easier to want to.

Tina had not had so much going on in her life since… Well… since ever. She had been on basic cloud nine since the dinner with Brittany. This dinner that she would remember for ever. She'd had these feelings for the blonde for so very long but she let herself and others, namely Santana, make her think there was no chance in hell someone as amazing as Brittany could be interested in some lowly nothing like her. She was still struggling with that. Tina knew that she was odd and as far as Lima was concerned she was beyond unimportant. She didn't fit and she had trouble trusting anything good that had ever happened to her. Brittany was definitely a good thing so she need to approach the situation cautiously. So what she had been falling hard for this girl for months, revealing too much would just get her heart crushed.

Brittany Pierce was perfection in carnet. Sometimes Tina even felt guilty about spending so much time with her, thinking the blonde could be doing much better things tan spending time with her… Not that was going to stop. Tina could stay away from Britt too long even if she tried. Lo… Liked the girl way too much for that. She wondered if this was just some elaborate prank Santana had put on to kill her. Tina wasn't good enough for anyone, especially not Britt. Brittany was a goddess, the most beautiful she had ever laid her eyes on, and she was really very smart just not in a conventional way. Tina loved how the blonde looked at the world. She was sweet, the sweetest person ever… And God, was she funny. They could laugh for hours. Her hugs and smiles had some sort of healing power because whenever Tina was having a bad day those particular hugs and kisses would make everything okay again. She, herself on the other hand was the farthest from perfect one could get. Tina wasn't pretty and se was so awkward.. And just wrong. Those feelings just would't go away though.

Her friendship with Rachel was a complete surprise on top of everything. She'd thought the girl was sort of selfish and self-involved and loud… Very loud. It turned out the first two weren't all that true. She was flawed just lie everyone was but she was kind in the end. She was sort of odd in her own way with her weird obsessions and that was Tina's favorite part about her. She was a surprise. They'd been having these extra practices and Rachel was really helping her improve with the song she'd picked, the tiny brunette was actually really good. Tina was enjoying there time together, enjoying having another friend. The practices had been nothing special but pretty fun, so when Tina walked up and saw the Skanks leaving and Rachel looking all disheveled, she hadn't known what to think exactly. She'd helped the other girl to the choir room, Rach had obviously ben badly hurt by those assholes. Tina understood what that was like to be hit and kicked and spat at and thrown into dumpsters just for being you… But this was really bad. It all spilled out, how the stupid skanks were basically torturing her and somehow while hugging a completely distraught Rachel Berry, Tina had agreed not to tell her dads or Santana. She later regretted it, but she couldn't break a promise she just had to find some way around it.

Brittany… For some reason for Tina she was always the solution. Unfortunately, Brittany's best friend was Santana Lopez beautiful and evil. The girl was generally out for her blood and Tina was really getting tired of it, but this was about Rachel, Santana's girlfriend who needed help. The day after the incident Tina "let it slip" to Britt that the small Diva was being bullied and she knew after that it was only a matter of time before Santana and the people most important to Rachel were informed. T was shocked but not completely when Santana managed to blame the whole thing on her… Wow of course. She had really done very little to Santana, nothing to deserve how she was being treated. Heck, before she and Britt became friends she'd barely said two words to the girl. She didn't talk much at school anyhow. She was really beyond over Santana's attitude and she was going to say something about it. So she marched through the halls of McKinley high with a purpose. When she finally stumbled upon one Miss Santana Lopez she was ready to let her have it.. but then …. was she crying… shit. "Uh Santana? Are you alright?"

When Santana heard the hesitant voice saying her name from somewhere behind her, her spine stiffened, and she scrubbed both hands over her cheeks hastily, trying to erase all evidence of tears before turning around, a sharp retort already on the tip of her tongue. She had a sinking feeling in her chest that the person speaking to her was one of the ones she would least like to see her this way, and when she sees that she is correct, that it is Tina talking to her, Tina seeing her like this, her cheeks flush, and she holds up both hands, snapping back at her.

"No, because I'm looking at your makeup job and that would make anyone lose all coherency. What the hell are you doing in here, Cheech Chong Kong?"

This show of viciousness is pretty much ruined by the faint sob that breaks out at the end of her second sentence, and by more tears emerging faster than she can wipe them away. Turning away from Tina quickly, mortified, she leans her forehead against the stall door again, covering her eyes with one hand. "Leave me alone. I know you're probably wetting your panties with glee, no pun intended, seeing this shit but…just go."

"Look!…"

Tina couldn't believe the nerve. All she asked is if the girl was alright and she is still greeted with racist hateful remarks. She really just wanted to kick the other girl in the shin, but instead Tina, slowly and very dramatically rolled her eyes. The pain in Santana's voice didn't go unnoticed so she was at an impasse, are worry and anger. The knot in her throat was dutifully swallowed as Tina reminded herself of Brittany and Rachel and the fact that such a person meant something to them.

"Unlike you I don't take pleasure in other people's pain. You don't like my make up or the fact … yes I am Asian, something you seem to continue to point out in your own insulting way, then go ahead and keep your back turned no one is forcing you to look at me….. but if you're upset over something.. I mean not if, you obviously are… Do want me to call someone Rachel or.. uh Brittany."

She couldn't ignore that hurt in Santana's voice no matter how much she wanted to just be angry and hate the other girl. Rachel was Tina's friend and Brittany was Tina's .. um .. she was Tina's Brittany so by some strange extension Santana was semi important in her life. Santana being upset meant people she cared about being upset so T supposed she should attempt to help. Besides she really didn't want this on her conscience.

"What's wrong, Santana?"

Santana attempted To ignore Tina, but it was difficult; the girl kept going on and on, and when she mentioned getting Rachel or Brittany, this could be ignored by Santana no longer as she lifted her head from her hands immediately, turning to partly glare, partly stare in genuine horror towards her. She couldn't let Brittany see her crying when she was mad at her, because if Brittany kept ignoring her even then, it would hurt too badly for her to even be able to imagine. She couldn't let Rachel see because then Rachel would be upset and worried about her, and what was she supposed to explain to them?

How was she supposed to explain to Tina? It sounded so stupid to say any of her own thoughts allowed, and when Tina happened to be a starring role in many of them…there was no way she could ever tell her.

"Leave me alone," she muttered again, but there was no strength in it this time as she lowered her gaze, wiping again at her eyes. "Don't get them, just leave me alone."

Tina huffed in frustration, the girl really had to make everything difficult. Everything was always a battle with Santana. It was difficult to know how to deal with. Tina didn't speak angry Mean Girl, well maybe she did a little, but not enough to understand what was going on with Santana … ever. The fact was she was not going just let this go, there was no way she could do that. Santana was going to see she wasn't the only stubborn one in the vicinity. Tina stepped a bit closer, pushing dark strands of hair behind her ears. This was new territory and she didn't quite know how to approach, so she was just going to feel things out.

"I'm not trying to bother you honest. I generally do my best to stir clear of you whenever possible, but you are clearly upset and I don't know, I guess I want to help. So, either tell me or you can tell your girlfriend and best friend it's up to you."

Folding her arms tightly across her chest, Tina sighed once more in an exaggerated fashion to let Santana know she was waiting for her response.

Help? Tina wanted to HELP? The only way she could help her would be to get the hell out of her life and never talk to Brittany or Rachel again, and even then they would both be upset and probably think Santana had killed her or something. Why couldn't she just leave her alone?

"You can't help me, and the only reason you even want to is so you look good to Brittany and Rachel," she muttered, but although her intent was to sound vicious, her voice cracked again, a few more tears slipping out. "The hell you gonna do, Tina? You gonna make Rachel better? You gonna go the hell away so Brittany will stop kissing your ass and whatever other body parts and pay attention to me again instead of acting like I don't exist? You gonna get my mami off my back and make my abuela look at me like an actual person and my papi to look at me at all, you gonna make me lose weight and just have this perfect charmed existence? How the hell would you HELP, exactly, huh?"

Tina tilted her head from side to side, cracking her neck in attempt to relieve some of the frustration. It is impossible to be nice to someone who talks to you this way. How in the world was she supposed to get through this without strangling this girl. Tina took a few deep breaths. Santana Lopez is hurting, lashing out. There is obviously something wrong try not to take offense. She gritted her teeth as she ran that through her mind a few times.

"No… I am not going to do any of those things. I thought I could listen possibly. We aren't friends right? So I can be honest with you. I feel like people are codling you or something. You don't own the rights to relationships with either Brittany or Rachel and me being friends with them doesn't take anything away from your relationships with them. Grow up Santana. They both love you so much, me being around doesn't change that. You sound like a child… "No thats mine, you can't touch, I won't share…' You are lucky to have people who love you so much so if they want to possibly have relationships outside of the ones they have with you, well you should let them and be happy they can have that too. Also you are pretty emaciated as it is why would you want to loose weight? You are one pea pod away from skeletal. You are beautiful you may have an arsenal of ugly … ugly words.. but you are the furthest thing from that. Issues with food are a psychological thing and usually not even about the food, but you can't just fix yourself. It doesn't work that way. You need to see a doctor like a shrink or something. You not getting help is selfish. You have your mom and Rachel and Brittany to think about. As for your gran and your dad… They are obviously going to regret this time lost at some point. Maybe not soon but eventually. I am sure it hurts like a mother, but you should focus on getting yourself together. You can't control other people's actions. It's their loss. In the end you are right… which I am sure you love. I am not going to help you. I can't help you Santana, that's up to you to help yourself."

Tina nodded her head in a matter of fact manner.

"Okay I am done. So go ahead and call me names if you want. You and I both know I'm right."

She pursed her lips preparing for the verbal assault Santana was sure to lay on her, but she was right.

At first, anger close to rage flared through Santana, so strongly that her first instinct is just to grab Tina by the hair and try to physically attack her. And for a moment, she almost does this. But as her body starts to turn more fully towards her and she meets Tina's eyes, an image of Brittany's disappointed, resolute face as she turns her back on her flashes across her mind, then Rachel, crying, upset, and equally disappointed and horrified by her. They would both hate her behaving like that, they would both probably yell or avoid her forever. And if Santana was really honest, she would feel sort of bad herself later.

She took a step back again, slumping against the stall door, and turned her face away from Tina, unable to take the girl's looking at her, her calm words cutting straight through it all to say exactly everything Santana did not want to hear. She didn't get it ALL right, Santana didn't believe that, but that made it no easier to listen to, because she knew that a lot of it- maybe even most of it- was.

She tried to think of something devastating to say back to Tina, something that would expose all her own flaws and insecurities and make her start crying, even things up. But nothing except the most weak of insults was coming to mind, which was upsetting in and of itself- was she losing her edge entirely? If she couldn't even hurt Tina anymore, how would she ever have power or control again?

One thing about what Tina was saying stuck in her head- even in the middle of all this, she had still called her beautiful. How and why…

"I'm not emaciated," was the only thing she could manage after a while, still through now quieter tears. "That's…I gained weight. I'm back on Cheerios…who told you about food?"

She's so going to be pissed at Brittany if she told her.

Tina's eyebrows slowly raised slowly. She had to fight back a chuckled when there were no insults flying at her head. This was probably a first; the should have probably been commemorated. She was sure that she would have been running out of there fighting her own tears.

Santana"s comment just made her shake her head in disbelief. Of course Brittany would never say anything that Santana told her in confidence.

"You sort of are. And no one _told_ me anything. I recognize it. That's all. It's not something you should be ashamed of by the way. The world we live in sort of promotes that crap.. plus I mean Coach Sylvester. You are a beautiful girl and weight, up or down that doesn't change that. I bet Rachel totally feels that way and that's what matters, right? Focus on being healthy…. and whatever other issues are behind this"

In that moment Tina sort of felt bad for thinking Santana was really satan in human form.

This is the weirdest situation Santana has been in, in some time now. Yesterday she never would have thought it possible that she'd end up today crying in the bathroom with Tina of all people actually trying to encourage her. With both of them not having tried to punch each other or rip out hair. Tina had in fact called her beautiful. Twice. And as she stood there, trying to get herself back under control, she actually sort of didn't want to hit her anymore.

This was crazy.

Scrubbing at her face with her palms one more time, Santana sniffled, keeping her eyes closed and her face turned away, and then shrugged, trying to make her voice flat, distant, even bored, as she responded. "Whatever."

But her expression is still much too full of many emotions to match her attempted tone, and the fact that she can still think of no suitable insult says a lot.

A light smile danced across Tina's lips as she rolled her eyes thinking of the unexpected turn of events. She hoped Santana would actually take what she said seriously. There was never a moment she wanted anything bad to happen to the girl… okay maybe a quick moment but she immediately regretted the thoughts afterward… Tina wanted Santana to overcome whatever demons she was fighting.

"Um yeah okay. I should probably get going before you realize it's me you're talking to and things go down hill. I know things are going to be alright for you… uh yeah so I'm gonna go now"

As she turned to leave Tina sighed then turned back toward the girl.

"If you every like need to talk or something… I don't judge so.. "

She gave a small wave and finally left feeling very odd about the whole thing.

Talking to Tina was about the last possible thing Santana would choose, the last person she'd choose. But then again so was crying in front of her in the bathroom, so…whatever. She was too tired to think about it.

She watched Tina go without saying anything, still confused and a little embarrassed, but no longer angry. Moving to the sink, she tore strips of paper towels and dampened them to begin to clean her face before finally leaving the bathroom.

Maybe Tina wasn't TOTALLY a waste of space. Just mostly.


	46. Chapter 46

Santana still loved Rachel.

She knew that. She knew it like she knew her name, like she knew she was Latina or like she knew she loved music and singing, like she knew the entire school saw her as a heartless bitch. She knew she loved Rachel, that it hurt her to see her in pain, that it would kill her if anything further ever happened to her. She knew that she felt more complete with Rachel in her life, that even when she was angry with her, she couldn't scrub her from her thoughts or make her not a part of her life.

She loved her. But could she really take her back, and if yes- which she was beginning to strongly lean towards- how?

When Rachel gave her permission to come see her, Santana had still not made up her mind as to what to do with this. Instead she let herself in, talking briefly with her fathers before heading towards Rachel herself. Whatever else she might do or say today, she did intend to hug the hell out of her. Everyone else be damned regardless of whether or not she did get back with her, their opinion of Rachel didn't matter.

"Hey."

Rachel sat up from her bed, giving Santana a small smile, then blushing when she realized she was still in her foot pajamas. She'd been wearing them since getting out of the shower in the morning. She knew how ridiculous Santana saw them as being, but Rachel hadn't really been expecting to see the other girl today.

Though maybe she should have.

Hesitating for a moment, Rachel finally got up an went over to Santana, hugging her tightly and burying her head in the girl's shoulder, Rachel swallowed thickly, trying to hold back tears.

Lately, Rachel couldn't seem to help crying when Santana held her.

Except, well, she was almost positive it was because she felt safe enough to actually cry with the girl.

Still, she didn't want to upset Santana, so Rachel held back. "Missed you," she finally spoke into Santana's neck.

Santana hid a smirk, seeing Rachel's pajamas, but said nothing. If they gave her comfort, so be it; she wouldn't tease her for anything that did, not now.

As Rachel actually got out of bed and came to her, hugging her, Santana felt the girl's breathing hitch against her skin and tightened her arms around her, kissing the top of her head. She rubbed her hand up and down Rachel's back, feeling herself relax into her after having held her for several moments, and she swallowed when she heard Rachel's whisper.

"I missed you too," she said, and she didn't pull back, letting Rachel be the one to decide when, where, and how with touching.

Rachel, still holding onto Santana, walking them back to the bed. She fell onto it, taking Santana with her, and instantly curling up into her side.

"How was your day?" she asked, voice small and eyes closed, trying to just focus on Santana's heartbeat and warmth, and not let the memories and the past few nightmares make their way into her head. She could hear Santana's voice rumble softly in her chest, and although she was still waiting for the ball to drop, and Santana to get tired of dealing with her, Rachel wanted to take what comfort she could while it was there.

Letting Rachel pull her down onto the bed, readjusting herself so she was holding Rachel more comfortably, without having an arm pinned down, Santana rested her head against the other girl's, briefly closing her eyes. She never knew how to answer questions as seemingly simple as Rachel's, especially given that she didn't want to tell her the truth of it, but she also didn't want to lie. Shrugging, she attempted to deflect.

"Good. Better now that I'm hanging with you. Did you get homework? I can get you that stuff if you need it."

Rachel hummed, shifting a little as though to shrug. "My Daddy picked it up, but I… I haven't really been able to focus on it. Which is terrible, and really unlike me. I just… I look at it, and I suppose part of is that I haven't really been focusing on classes in the past… month or so… I'm not…" She sighed, biting her lip. "I'm not behind. Not really. I've just sort of… Doing what I need to do to get by…"

She blinked back tears, mind flooding with the fact that she had quit several of her extra clubs, had skipped more than one dance class, and her grades were down to a B average mostly. Except Spanish, which had plummeted to a C+.

It was embarrassing, and yet she couldn't manage make her care enough to change it. As many times as Rachel had looked in the mirror, telling herself to shape up, and focus, and get on track, it hadn't clicked, and she continued to slip.

Santana's eyes widened slightly at this confession. For Rachel to not be doing homework and possibly getting worse grades was something serious and immediately upped her concern. She combed her fingers through her hair, nuzzling her nose against the top of her head, and gave her another squeeze as she tried to think of what to say.

"Well…I can't even believe these words are coming out of my mouth, but…maybe we can study together or whatever. Especially with Spanish. Hell, I'll do your Spanish work for you, it will take me like a minute to finish."

She stroked her fingers down Rachel's arm, lightly caressing its insides, as she spoke.

Nodding, Rachel answered quietly, "That would be good… I'd like that, I think… I'm sorry…" She was sure Santana was getting sick of all the apologies, but Rachel didn't seem to know what else to say at times.

She pressed herself as close to Santana as humanly possible, letting out a shuddering breath, and sighed thickly again. "Though, for the record, you don't need to do my Spanish for me. But… helping with me would be nice. I love when you speak Spanish," Rachel began to ramble. "I love how it rolls off your tongue, the little accent you get when you get into it… It's a nice language, but you make it beautiful…"

She yawned then, going quiet for a bit, before finally asking, "Can you sleep over, or…?"

"Stop apologizing," Santana tapped Rachel's nose mock angrily, but smiled at her. "No more sorries.

My ears are closed to sorries, okay?"

She continued to run her fingers through Rachel's hair, lightly scratching at her scalp with her fingertips, carefully avoiding the area that had been injured. When Rachel compliments her Spanish, she smiles, speaking aloud to her in Spanish, hoping Rachel only picks up a few words here and there.

"I'll speak Spanish all day long if it makes you smile. If it makes you feel better I'd put on a damn sombrero and shake some maracas and dance for you too. Is that what it would take, sweetie? Is that what would make you smile for me? I wish I knew what would because I'd do it."

When Rachel asked if she could stay over, Santana hesitated, really wanting to defy her mother, but knowing the embarrassing scene that could result, reluctantly shook her head. "No…Mami will come after me. But…if you want to stay with me…I mean…I don't know, maybe that's a bad idea, with Abuela…but if you want to."

Rachel smiled ear to ear as Santana spoke in Spanish. She caught bits and pieces, giggling for the first time in a month at the few words (such as the sombrero line), and on reflex kissing Santana's neck softly, blushing as she hid her face against it.

She bit her lip, then nodded. "I'd like that. Your abuela doesn't bother me, and I think my dads would be okay with me staying with you. They trust you, and they know you make me feel safe." Rachel was playing with Santana's top at this point, her body actually feeling relaxed and warm.

Maybe Santana would leave her again.

Maybe… maybe things were actually going to start being okay…

Santana smiled when Rachel laughed, the relief coming over her intense, and she laughs softly, too, enormously happy to hear that Rachel can still find humor in something. She hugs her impulsively, and when Rachel kisses her neck, she blinks, surprised both by the gesture and by the heat that floods through her as a result. She definitely wasn't against it.

"Abuela bothers ME," she muttered back, walking her fingers lightly up Rachel's spine. "But Mami would shut her down if she's mean to you and so will I. Cool, come over then, I'll call her and let her know in a while."

When Rachel starts to play with her shirt, Santana stills, looking down at her, unsure of what to make of it, but not unwilling. She doesn't push her hands back, waiting to see what will happen.

Getting up slowly, clearly not wanting to leave Santana's warm body, Rachel let out a slow breath. She grabbed her backpack, keeping her homework in it, and packed a few things of clothes quickly. She then looked to Santana, blushing lightly. "Um… Could you wait for me downstairs so I can change?" she asked. "You can tell my dads I'm staying with you tonight."

She had actually been ready to start undressing right there, when she realized that her and Santana weren't together anymore, and, more than that, she didn't want the other girl to see her bruises. They were ugly, and she felt ugly with them.

Santana hadn't expected Rachel to pull away from her so quickly, and she is surprised by how reluctant she is to let her. And then when she asks her to go downstairs while she changes…well, what does THAT mean? It's not like she hasn't seen Rachel's body dozens of times before- even before they were together, she had seen her undressing in Glee. That was in fact what had started this entire thing between them, Rachel gawking at her while she was changing. So why be shy now?

It didn't make much sense to her, but Rachel was asking her to do it, so she shrugged inwardly and headed out.

88

Rachel sighed, sitting on her bed as she waited for Santana come over. The premise was that Santana was helping Rachel with Spanish, but they both knew it was going to be more than that. In all honesty, she was scared; terrified even. Rachel could feel so many things starting to bubble over. Lots of angry, terrible things, in her mind. But Santana /wanted/ to hear it all… And… And Rachel wanted to say it. She just… She hoped Santana wouldn't hate her, and also… She sincerely hoped that, and though she hated to even think it, she hoped that Santana also would not blame herself, or make it /about/ her…

Santana doesn't turn on the radio as she drives to Rachel's house for a change, wanting the time of silence to think and prepare herself for what's to come. She has basically pressed Rachel into saying she'll talk to her, explain what's gotten her so angry, and she has a feeling that it has something or maybe everything to do with her. She wants to hear it, she wants to fix things if she can, make things better for Rachel, but if she's going to yell at her, it will be hard for her to listen to without getting defensive. She tries to tell herself to be patient as she pulls into her driveway and walks up to the front door, letting herself in and upstairs to Rachel's room.

Rachel looks up when the door to her room opens, giving Santana a small smile as the other girl closes the door, though it quickly turns into a frown when her gaze goes back to the floor. She doesn't know how to approach this, really. Does she just start yelling? Or should she try to work herself up to it? She's never been afraid to say what's on her mind in the past, but, admittedly, she never felt so scared of the consequences, or of the possible blow-out either. One could say Rachel has grown a little too fast in the last month or so, and she struggles to figure out what to say, or do, now that Santana is right there and waiting for her to speak.

Santana smiles back at Rachel, but it seems obvious that the girl is really troubled about whatever it is she's going to talk to her about. She tries not to worry too much about whatever is about to come as she comes closer, trying to hold the smile. "Hey Rach. Okay if I sit here?" she gestured towards the bed, feeling strangely formal, as though she has to invite herself to do so. She has the sense that Rachel wants distance and isn't sure just how much of it is needed.

Rachel, feeling suddenly hyper-tense, stands up, beginning to pace back and forth, trying to piece together everything she's feeling, and thinking, and trying even harder to actually make words come out of her mouth. Her hands are waving, and her face is flustered, and she's biting her lip every so often. Finally, with a huff, she looks at Santana, shoulders slumped. "Have you- Do you— I mean— Do you ever want to just- just scream, and yell, but on one hand you're afraid of losing people, and on the other hand you're afraid they'll-" She began to pace again, back and forth, back in forth, in front of the other girl. "I'm so /angry/ lately. About /so many things/. And I just- I don't know HOW to say it without— without people getting upset at me, or pitying me, or- or just— or making it about /them/ when it's supposed to me about /me/ and /my/ feelings! You know?"

Santana has not actually received an answer from her as to whether it's okay to sit with her, so she remains standing awkwardly in the doorway, figuring that this means she doesn't have permission. Frowning, she looks back at Rachel, bothered by her tone and posture, let alone her words. Nodding slowly, wondering where all this is leading to, she replies, "Yeah, I do. I really do….so that's how you feel?"

Rachel paused, turning to Santana and, set her hands on her shoulder, maneuvering the girl so that she was seated on her bed.

"There. Okay," she said, mostly to herself, before going back to pacing. "To answer your question, I- yes. I mean. Alright. And please bear with me. When- after the break up I was… I was… It really hurt," Rachel finally started, her pacing continuing and her hands going everywhere as she spoke. "A lot. But I thought I could handle it. I thought, I mean, I figured as long as you were getting help, and starting to help yourself, you'd eventually be happy, and I could happy. But then… I guess… You started being mean again. And then the Skanks started to go after me. And it wasn't bad at first. Just name calling. Except it started to get worse, and you… It was like nothing we had done mattered… And all I could think about was…" she swallowed thickly, forcing herself to keep going.

"Was that the whole time, no matter what I did, no matter how many times I had been there for you, you… you stopped caring. And while I was getting harassed by the Skanks, you were over there begging for Brittany's attention and she- And I-"

A few tears finally began to slide down her cheeks as her throat tightened, and Rachel turned back to look at Santana. "I give up everything for you, including your love for me, so that YOU could happy and healthy again. I got beat up, and emotionally abused, and the whole time no one cared. No one even noticed. And yes, I wanted it that way, but I just… I wanted someone to save me, because I didn't know how to save myself anymore… and when you finally did? I'm still terrified you'd choose hanging out with Brittany over me, every time. Not because you're in love with her, but because she's Brittany. And had she been the one to tell your mother? I can't help but think that… You'd be angry at her, but you'd never hurt her. Ever."

Santana listens to Rachel, her hands slowly moving to cup her elbows, and she lets her shoulders slump slightly, but doesn't move her eyes from Rachel's. She can't. She watches the other girl, seeing her pain, the real anger in her tone, and realizes now that much of it is directed at her. It's difficult for her to hear this, to know that Rachel feels this way, all the more so because when she thinks about it, she isn't sure how much of it is actually true. Would she really never hurt Brittany, if Brittany had been the one to tell her mother? Will she really always choose Brittany over Rachel? In that moment, she genuinely isnt' sure, and it shames her that Rachel may know this. But one thing is definitely true….she would have cared, if she had known what the Skanks were doing to Rachel. As mean as she had been towards her, as upset and angry, even the same day that Rachel had told her mother, she never would have allowed the Skanks to hurt her, and she releases a slow breath, trying to tell her this.

"Rachel…I never stopped caring."

Rachel goes to sit at her desk, shrugging a little, shoulders collapsed in. "Not enough to know I was hurting… Not enough to… Just… I'm sorry… I know you don't want to hear any of this, and I know you have a lot of other things to worry about. It's just…" Looking up at Santana, Rachel gave her a small, watery smile. "I fell asleep every night wishing you were holding me, and dreaming about you smiling at me, instead of screaming. And I can't help but think that… that I'm always going to be the one wanting more, and you'll never quite want to give me that, or you just… won't feel the same way…"

Santana wants so badly to look away from Rachel then. She doesn't want to see the pain in her eyes, in her body, doesn't want to hear it in her voice, and she doesn't know what to say, what would be the right thing to do to or even what she wants to do. She exhales again, blinking, and then slowly reaches for Rachel's arm, resting her fingers lightly on it. "I love you. I never stopped loving you. Please…know that."

Rachel 's head shoots up, eyes wide. She tries to think of something to say in return, but all her words are stuck in her throat, and the only thing she can do is nod, tears streaming down her cheeks, as she moves to crawl into Santana's lap, curling up there as best she can. The rush of adrenaline she had been feeling is starting to seep away, and Santana's words have left her somewhat shell-shocked. Still…

"Sometimes… Sometimes I just don't think I'm enough…" she choked out. "I'm not Brittany. Or even Quinn. M'just Rachel Berry. And Rachel Berry keeps doing everything wrong."

Santana slowly wraps her arms around Rachel, pulling her more fully into her lap and rubbing a hand over her back. She breathes out yet again, still struggling for words, with her own feelings, and finally she tries to just be honest, regardless of how scary it feels, like she's jumping back into the deep end without being able to see the bottom.

"You're….you're exactly right. Exactly…Rachel."

Rachel sniffled, swallowing audibly. "It doesn't feel that way…" she whispers, closing her eyes and seemingly trying to disappear into Santana. "I just feel wrong…" she went on between sniffles and the occasional sob. "And I don't even know how to fix it. Everything I try ends up making things worse… I just screw up, Santana… I'm a screw up… A little, ugly screw up. /That's/ what Rachel Berry is. And I hate it… because I don't know when it happened. Or maybe it's who I've always been. Maybe it just took me this long to realize it."

Santana can barely stand to listen to her, let alone look at her, and what makes it worse is that what Rachel is saying, how she feels, can pretty much be placed entirely on her own shoulders. She's the one who, from the time they were freshmen, has made Rachel feel like she's ugly and stupid and worth nothing, and she's been trying all over again ever since she broke up with her. She loves her…she knows that, knows that now, faced with her pain, more than ever. She knows it and yet she had struggled so long and hard to let herself know and act on it, in the past few months. She knows it and it's still effort, she still has to talk herself into telling her otherwise, and what the hell does that say for what kind of person she is?

Stroking Rachel's hair back, she kisses her forehead, listening to her, and then tries to respond. "Everyone screws up. You know more than anyone I do. I screw up with YOU. But that's not who you are. Not by any means…Rachel, you're so…you're completely extraordinary. How do you not know that?"

"

Rachel can only shrug. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore… I just want to be happy again… And I don't know how, Santana. I don't remember how to just… be happy. I'm scared, and I still have nightmares. I feel alone even when I'm with the glee club, and most days I just… want to sleep and not have to wake up… It's easier… and I'm really tired… I'm so tired, Santana. I feel like I'm just fighting this losing battle. As though, no matter what I do, nothing will change. You'll love me but will always want Brittany's attention more than anything and everything else, I'll sing but no one will listen, I'll speak and people will tell me to shut up. Same as always…"

Santana freezes, not wanting to accept what Rachel is saying. Hearing the unspoken message beneath it, or at least she thinks she understands it, she grabs Rachel by the shoulders and turns her to face her, holding her face in both hands and making her look her in the eyes.

"Rachel. Do you want to kill yourself…do you want to die?"

Rachel bit her lip, not quite looking at Santana, but managing to shake her.

"N-No… I don't think- I just- No," she forces out, and though her voice is shaky, it's sincere. "I'm just… I just want to be able to rest."

Looking up, sniffling again as more tears begin to appear in her eyes, "I'm so /tired/ for taking care of everyone," says Rachel, voice cracking. "Is it… Is it selfish that for once I want to be taken care of? For- for someone else to worry a little, to actually care about me, and make /me/ feel better? I know I'm supposed to be strong, and support the Club, and support our friends even when they hate me, but… When is it my turn?"

Santana briefly closes her eyes, then opens them, not wanting Rachel to notice or feel like she's reacting to her and to feel bad for what she's saying. She reaches out and strokes back a handful of Rachel's hair, then keeps her face against her cheek, her thumb rubbing away some of her tears, and swallows, replying slowly.

"No. It's…that's what you need. And should have. And…I want to give it to you."

Rachel rests her head on Santana's shoulder, hiding her face in the crook of the girl's neck and letting out a shaky breath.

"But… what about you…?" she asks, despite what she had just said.

Because no matter how much she hates it, or how terrible she knows it is, Rachel can't just focus on herself for these things, and, despite how much she's been hurt, she definitely can't stop worrying about Santana and Santana's health and happiness. "You can't stop focusing on you just to help me… And what about Brittany? Or Quinn? They… they need you, too…"

Santana continues to stroke her hand through Rachel's hair, now circling her arm around her shoulders to further settle her into her. She thinks over what Rachel is saying, finally coming up with a response that seems true.

"Right now you need me more. And…I think…maybe focusing on you can help me not focus on me..and maybe that's what I need."

Rachel blinked away the last of her tears, nodding into Santana's body. "Okay… I…" she swallowed, closing her eyes tightly. "I want to trust you again… So… please don't drop me again…"

Drop her…was that what she had done? Drop her? It had felt more like a combination of protecting herself and getting vengeance at the moment, but she guesses if she comes down to it, that's what had happened. Rachel had betrayed her trust, but it had never occurred to her that she had betrayed hers too. Slowly she nods, then speaks aloud, so Rachel will hear.

"I won't."

Sighing heavily, Rachel pulled back a little, wiping her face on her sleeve and clearing her throat. "I… I won't drop you either… I promise…" And then, "Can… Um… Are you staying the night? You can- you can borrow my clothes, and… I mean, if you want. You don't have to. I just… miss you… I know it's sort of my fault, because I was avoiding you for the past three days… But… yeah…"

She looked down, not sure what else to say. She felt like a mess, and looked like one too, most likely, and Rachel definitely felt tired. More than ever, now that she had gotten so much off her chest in such a short amount of time.

Santana knows that her mother is going to be irritated with her in the morning for staying without asking permission or telling Rachel's dads about her situation, but she's not worried about that now. Rachel wants her to stay and that's all she cares about. Nodding, she gives her a little squeeze, keeping her arm around her.

"Yeah, I will. No footies though."

Rachel actually cracks a smile at that, even giggles a little.

"Alright… fine… But only on the condition that you keep me warm, then. It's November, and chilly, and if you won't let me wear my warm pajamas you're responsible for their job."

Santana smiles back, glad to hear her giggle, and reaches to ruffle her hair on impulse. "I can probably manage that. It will be a grueling task and all but I'll try."

Rachel shakes her head to get Santana's hand away from her hair, then sticks her tongue out at the girl. Blowing some stray strands away from her face, she finally gets up off of Santana's lap, pouting the whole way, and goes to her dresser to find Santana something to wear. "I'm sure you'll find a way to succeed. You're very stubborn, after all," she replies, throwing a pair of gym shorts and a shirt that's a size too big for at the cheerleader. Despite having relatively the same bone structure, Rachel already has seen how much space Santana's chest takes up. And the last thing she needs is to be distracted by the girl in a tight shirt that doesn't cover her whole stomach. She gets out her own pjs and heads to the connected bathroom. "I'll be right back. I'm going to change and brush my teeth," is all she says, then closes the door.

Santana is disappointed when Rachel goes to the bathroom to change, but doesn't mention it, not pushing the matter. She is still unsure, despite her own words, exactly what her sworn committment to Rachel means as far as their status with each other. She takes her time changing her clothes, as though half hoping Rachel will catch her doing so.

Rachel does, in fact, walk out right as Santana is just pulling on the shirt three minutes later, and she freezes for a moment, face getting warm and jaw going slack as her eyes catch bare breasts and toned stomach just before their covered by the material of the shirt. She swallows thickly, but definitely not from crying.

"S-sorry. Um- I thought you'd be done." She tries saying more, and knows it's silly to still react this way given that she has seen Santana naked on multiple occasions already (and has sex for goodness sake), but Rachel has this very distinct feeling that she'll never /really/ get used to seeing Santana's body. She could hate Santana completely, and just a glance at those toned abs, or- "Those shorts look nice on you," she blurts out suddenly. And they do. And she probably should have thought sleeping shorts through before giving them to the girl, because now her eyes are on long legs made up of perfect calves and strong thighs and it's frying her brain all over again.

Santana smiles, almost grins, really, when Rachel walks in on her, and she slows her movements just a bit more to make sure Rachel gets full benefits. She is pleased that she can still get that reaction out of her, and it hits her that it's even pleasing to her that Rachel isnt' looking at her with concern or pity, like she might have a few pounds ago. When Rachel tells her that her shorts look nice on her, Santana deliberately rolled them over at the waist so they hugged up as close beneath her backside as possible.

"Little long for my taste but they'll do."

Rachel actually squeaks as Santana rolls the shorts up by their waistband, exposing more (practically) of her thighs and tightening around the girl's ass. Her face gets even hotter, and she finally manages to look away, going over to her door to crack it open, and turning off the main light, leaving only the bedside lamp on. "Y-yes, well. That's good," sputters the shorter girl, moving to sit on her bed, and having the worst time trying to keep her eyes on Santana's face.

It had been easy when Santana was avoiding her, or being mean to her, or yelling even, to not be quite so effected by the girl's body. But with new promises, and the inability to actually distract herself with words and thoughts (the downfall of actually talking about things, Rachel supposed), she's having a more than a few issues keeping certain memories at bay. And honestly? Santana looks even /better/ than she had a month and a half ago. A little more filled out, a little more tone… God she hadn't felt this way since the last time they had… Rachel blinked, looking down and trying to hide her now obvious blush. She needed to stop that train of thought.

Santana is still watching Rachel, pleased with her reaction. One thing that had usually made her feel okay about her body, at least for a little while, is Rachel's reaction to it, especially when embarrassed over it, and she genuinely smiles, enjoying this. As Rachel sits on the bed, Santana sits on her lap on impulse, waiting to see how she'll respond to THAT.

Rachel is pretty sure her brain is fried. She squeaks again, this time in a very noticeable way, and can feel her blush going down her neck as her hands automatically go to Santana's hips and her body freezes up. Unfortunately, her eyes have also appeared to freeze, right at Santana's chest, of which is nearly level with her gaze now, and wow it really has been a very, very long time because she is no where near ready for all of this but her body is definitely responding; it's the only thing responding, seeing as her brain has decidedly shut down at the moment.  
She's not a virgin, but somehow Santana can still make her feel like it.

Santana can definitely feel and even more satisfactorily, hear Rachel's reaction behind her, and she smirks to herself, looping an arm around Rachel's neck and nuzzling her cheek briefly against the other girl's. Slowly shifting her legs over Rachel's, she makes sure the movement presses her ass into her lap.

Rachel whimpers, thighs clenching and pulse racing, heart hammering in her chest. She has no idea what Santana is doing, or why she's doing it, or even if they should be doing whatever is being done, but Santana's ass rubs almost perfectly against her pelvis, forcing the fabric of her shorts against her clit, and her hands tense as a little whine escapes her throat. She feels dizzy. Dizzy with arousal that hasn't flooded her in over a month, dizzy with feelings, with the smell of Santana's hair and the warm body pressing into her- It's too much, and before she knows it, before she can stop it, Rachel's eyes roll back a bit, and she falls to her back onto the mattress, fainted.

Santana doesn't realize at first what's just happened. She thinks that Rachel is just asleep, and then that she must be joking, playing around. There is no way she isn't, because no one faints from…no one faints because someone rubbed their ass on their lap. Right…right?! But when Santana touches Rachel's face, she realizes that she's all too serious, and her eyes grow wide with her alarm. Patting at Rachel's cheeks, she leans in close, anxious, incredulous.

"RACHEL!"

Rachel comes too easily enough, eyes fluttering open and blinking. She can't remember laying down. All she remembers is Santana's ass against her, and her body pressing into her, and the girl's boobs… Speaking of… Her vision is still blurred, but the shirt she gave Santana has a low enough cut that she can definitely see cleavage, and, well, unfortunately for her, her brain hasn't quite booted up yet.

"Did you know your breasts look perfect all the time?" was the first thing out of her mouth, words slightly slurred.

Santana's mouth drops open, and the shock on her face is quickly broken up as she bursts out laughing. Flopping beside Rachel on the bed, she practically gasps for breath, her face buried in her arms, shoulders shaking with barely suppressed snickers.

Rachel eventually starts being able to think again, though her memory is fuzzy. She sits up, looking at Santana in confusion.

"Santana… why are you laughing…" she asks, brows furrowing and a pout on her lips.

Santana takes a while longer to stop, and when she finally rolls over to face Rachel, she is grinning, a spontaneous snort escaping occasionally.

"You PASSED OUT on me…and told me my boobs are perfect…holy SHIT do you never masturbate?!

Rachel blushed, so hotly that she felt it instantly. "I- That's not-!" she stutters, then looks down, feeling suddenly ashamed, and completely embarrassed. "It… it hasn't exactly been on my mind…" she mumbles, arms wrapping around her waist as her own insecurity takes over now that her brain isn't so clouded any more.

"Can… Can we just go to bed now…?"

Santana snickered again, then pushed herself up to a sitting position. Wrapping her arms around Rachel, she kissed her forehead.

"Sure. You're cute, by the way….and sooooooo easy."

Rachel blushes even hotter, clearer her throat, not sure if she should feel/more/ embarrassed and ashamed, or just ashamed. Santana said it was cute, that she was cute, but in what way? Cute like the way a helpless kitten is cute, or cute like, you know, being attracted to someone is cute? Sighing, all she could do was shrug.

"Sorry…" she muttered, not sure what she was apologizing for. Maybe for being easy? Whatever that meant?

Santana looked at her, somewhat exasperated, and shook her head at her.

"Why?" She paused, then leaned forward, kissing her forehead again, then the slope of her nose. Pulling back, she paused, looking into her eyes, and then, closing her own eyes, leaned forward and kissed her lips, gently, without tongue.

Rachel froze, eyes going wide for a moment, before her body all but melted into the kiss, tension seeping out of her shoulders instantly as her brain lost the ability to think and her senses were overwhelmed by the other girl completely. When Santana pulled away slowly, Rachel was left blinking, dumbfounded, eyes somewhat glazed over and lips still slightly parted.

"Wh-why did you…?"

Santana frowned, unsure how to take Rachel's reaction, and pulled back from her a little, though she kept a hand on the back of her neck gently, cupping it beneath her hair.

"I just…wanted to. I guess. Did you not want me to?"

"N-no- I mean yes- I mean-" Rachel huffed, still feeling a shiver run up her spine as Santana's hand rested on the base of her neck. "I- I missed kissing you. A lot. I just… didn't think you'd… That you'd want to… With me, I mean. After… Everything…"

She looked down, biting her lip, but no move to put space between her and Santana. If anything, her body leaned into the hand against her just a bit, without Rachel even knowing it.

Santana slowly rubs her thumb over the base of Rachel's neck, lightly digging it into her skin. She deflated slightly at Rachel's initial no, but then cheered a little when she heard her add that she seemed to think it was more so that Rachel didn't want it. She thought about it for another few moments, then leaned forward without speaking, kissing her again, just a little longer and more firmly this time. And this was her response.

Rachel couldn't stop the soft moan, almost a sigh of relief, that left her lips as Santana's own lips pressed more firmly to hers. Again her body loosened, leaning forward into Santana, and soon she was pressed against the slightly taller girl, head tilted up and arms around her neck, her eyes closed. Rachel parted her lips just a bit, but made no other move to take control of the kiss in anyway, only reacting to and responding to what Santana did. Truthfully, she was too tired to take control anymore, and perhaps too scared.

Santana is glad when Rachel responds this time, enjoying the sound of her moan, and she smiles into the kiss, letting Rachel's lip drag slightly between her teeth and sucking it before releasing, deepening the kiss and parting her lips with her own. She doesn't use tongue yet, taking her time.

Rachel sucks in a breath, whimpering as she feels teeth graze her lips and suck on her lower one. Another shiver runs up her spine, and she leans back a little, taking Santana with her, barely noticing when her back hits the mattress. Oddly enough, she doesn't feel all that nervous, or worried that things are going to go to fast or get too hot. Just having Santana over her, and actually /kissing/ her. It feels… /safe/. And Rachel feels her body relax even more.

Santana lets Rachel pull her back, one hand sliding up to cup the back of her head as she helps ease her the rest of the way down, covering her body with her own as she lays on top of her, careful not to squash her. Her body is molding into Rachel's in a way that is so familiar, so comforting and right, and she had not realized how much she missed it until this moment. Lying over her, still cradling the back of her head with one hand, she continues to kiss her, now slipping her tongue into Rachel's mouth just a little, lightly caressing it against hers.

Rachel's legs parted enough to let Santana lay over her easier, fingers tangling in the girl's hair and body nestling in under her perfectly, content and happy to just let herself be kissed and kiss slowly in return. It was… weird to have this happening again, after all the fighting, and weirder still that is just felt… /different/. But in a good way. A more… Like it /mattered/ more. There was no haste to get clothing off, no rush to dominate or get off, nothing of that sort. It was slow, and easy, and comforting. All the things she had missed, and craved, and has Santana pushed her tongue gently through Rachel's lips, Rachel let her, allowing the girl to move and lead the kiss without fighting, sinking into it and letting worries fall away as her body hummed and her heart began to race steadily.

Santana's own heart is beginning to beat pretty fast, but it's not bred of anxiety or even great excitement, so much as the intense closeness of the moment. She lightly strokes her fingertrips through Rachel's hair and down the side of her face, over her shoulder and arm, just wanting to touch her, her own scalp tingling where Rachel is touching her. She is kissing her almost languidly, feeling as if she is somehow becoming part of Rachel rather than trying to get any certain feeling from or reaction from her, and as slow as this iis, it isn't frustrating. She isn't in a rush at all.

When they finally separate, lips mere inches apart, Rachel's eyes flutter open, and she knows her face is red again, but certainly not from shame this time, or even really embarrassment. This is a less familiar, but much more welcomed feeling; the fluttering, flustered feeling that Santana always seems to bring out in her. The one that makes her feel like a shy little schoolgirl that you read about in books or see in movies, instead of the future starlet and diva that Rachel is so used to portraying. She giggles, looking up at Santana through her eyelashes, distinctly aware of how the other girl's body presses and touches her own.

"That's… even better than I remember," she breathes out, smiling as she bites her lower lip.

Santana smiles, loving the sound of Rachel's giggle, the way she's looking at her, how she feels against her, soft and shy and no longer at all upset. She had made her forget, she had made her feel good, feel happy, and she's pleased with herself as she smiles back at her, lightly kneading Rachel's shoulder with her thumb.

"Well we're a couple of months older and you know what they say about getting better with age."

Rachel giggled again, her cheeks flush and heart unsteady, but not in a bad way. She smirked a little, raising her brow up at Santana, almost in challenge.

"You're older than me, you know… You should be 'teaching me your ways', or something, before you're too old and rickety. Unless you're a succubus, and will stay young and gorgeous forever that is." The smirk turned to a soft, shy smile. "Is that your secret, Santana? Are you an otherwordly beauty with inhuman sexual prowess, come to seduce me and give you my soul?"

Santana's smile widened, and she slid her hand over Rachel's side, up her ribs, and then slowly across her stomach, pressing down inch by inch, as though meaning to travel down her pants, and she stopped, teasing, just above the line of her underwear.

"If I was…I'd never tell."

Rachel felt her cheeks get hotter, and she involuntarily whimpered, her breath quickening slightly as her stomach muscles trembled. "That-" she swallowed, shuddering, "that feels a lot- a lot h-hotter than I remember, too," Rachel stuttered out, eyes unable to move away from the hand so close to her waistline, thighs twitching on reflex.

Santana doesn't move her hand any further, eyes on Rachel's; the whimper stopped her, as she wasn't sure at first if it was pleasure or not, but when Rachel says her touch is hot, she smiles in relief, relaxing again. Still, she doesn't move her hand yet.

"Do you want me to go on, or…"

Rachel 's initial reaction is /yes please/, but she manages to bite it back, letting out a shaky breath.

"We- we shouldn't. I mean. You know. Not like that. Not all the way like that," rambled the girl. "We're not even… you know… together… Technically. And I just…" She bit her lip again, this time looking to the side, a little nervous as to how Santana will react. "I don't… want it to be like before… Where we just… have a lot of sex. I mean, no, I /do/ um did- but also still do- like the sex, a-a lot, obviously, I only mean that-"

With a sigh, struggling to say what she wanted, without freaking herself out, Rachel closed her eyes and spoke slower, forcing herself to relax by focusing on Santana's reassuring weight on her.

"I love how you make me feel, when you make my heart flutter, and make me forget how to be an overbearing, control-freak diva. When you just… hold me, or squeeze my hand, or, in the past, bend me over a desk and, um.. you know…" Her face got more red, but she went on. "And I want that back. It's just… We moved /really/ fast last time. And it's not that I didn't want it… I just feel like… Maybe I wanted it for the wrong reasons. Not ALL the wrong reasons. Because I did, and do, love you… I just… Sex was… it was easy… And when we… were together, I could forget about all the problems we had… I don't want to use sex as an excuse not to communicate… …Does that make sense?"

Santana isn't sure at first that this makes sense at all. She isn't sure she likes what she's hearing, and her first instinct is to focus on the fact that she just said no to sex and to immediately turn everything negative that Rachel is trying to say. It was all too familiar and easy for her mind to sink back into the familiar habit of taking the no and turning it into a personal rejection, to letting herself think that Rachel still didn't trust or forgive her, that Rachel didn't like sex with her or was making excuses not to have sex with her. But then she exhaled, looking into Rachel's eyes, and she can see the sincerity there, the desire for her to understand, and Santana makes herself relax. Rachel had said she did want sex. Rachel had said she loved her. Rachel said she liked being with her. She wasn't good at or fond of communication, but she could try, she guessed. If that was what she really wanted.

"Okay."

Rachel smiled, letting out a breath that she hadn't even realized she had been holding. "Thank you," she responded, the words heavy with emotion. She leaned up, kissing Santana again, just as slow as before, pulling the girl back down over her, and when she finally breaks the kiss, she smiles again.

"Th-that said… uh…" her blush hasn't gone away at all, but she knows for a back it's traveling down her neck. "If you want.. if /you're/ comfortable with it…we can… explore each other again, over clothes, I mean. Butonlyifyou'reokaywithi t," hurried Rachel to add. "I- I'm- I don't think you actually know how easily you turn me on, is all. And so… uh… I'm not actually making any sense anymore, am I?"

Santana doesn't need to be told twice. She just smiles, playfully flicking Rachel's nose, and slowly begins to run her fingertip over Rachel's body, starting at her collar bone and tracing the slope of her shoulders and down her arms, then working her way back up. As she moves towards her chest she slowly adds pressure, using her full hand and palm.

Rachel melts a little more at the smile aimed at her, smiling back and scrunching her face as her nose is flicked. She's about to retort, thinking Santana is done teasing, but her breath catches in her throat once hands begin to move over her body, and before she knows it her eyes are closed and there's a near-breathless sigh floating from her lips. A shiver here, a small quiver there, everywhere Santana's fingers pass leaves a trail of electricity, and Rachel's body arches up from the bed a few inches as a hand touches her chest.

"Ooh-oohh…" she whimpers, thighs tightening again at Santana's hips.

Santana loves watching how she's affecting Rachel, how she can make her react to her without hardly doing anything to her at all. She smiles, pressing her body just a little more closely against her as she rubs her hand slowly, deliberately over Rachel's breasts, between them, and then down the center of her stomach, across her ribs and then in an arc of her hipbones.

Rachel's hips jump instinctively, and a strangled whine gets out of her throat before she can stop it. This isn't new at all, though; the feeling of being absolutely on fire from Santana barely touching her. It's been a weakness, in a way, since the whole thing began, and only intensified once there were /feelings/ involved. She's almost (really) embarrassed at the fact that she is definitely getting wet between her legs, and she keeps her eyes closed, knowing absolutely that they are currently very dark, and that she is very aroused.

Santana suppresses a laugh, biting the inside of her cheeks, but her eyes are glowing as she slowly trails her hand down Rachel's thigh. She kneads its muscle gently, eyes on Rachel's face, then slowly slides her hand between her legs, still only touching her thigh rather than her vagina.

Rachel sucks in air through her teeth, thighs clenching around the hand between them, fingers tangling in the sheets below her, and hips jerking again. She can feel herself getting wetter instantly, Santana's warm, firm hand on her thigh, and, swallowing thickly, she whimpers, "Oh God…"

She wasn't lying when she said that masturbation hadn't been on her mind at all, considering the only person she wanted to think about was Santana, and that just /hurt/. But now… Now Santana is touching her again, and more than a little pent of sexual frustration is starting to break through.

Santana continues to gently squeeze her thigh, her own breath catching as Rachel traps her hand between her legs. She can feel herself getting wet, a slight shiver coming over her as she slowly, slowly shifts her hand up, the back of her hand now lightly giving contact to Rachel's underwear, before pressing a little more firmly , not yet with fingers or palm.

Rachel cries out, hips rolling up more firmly at the contact, along with another flood of arousal dampening her already ruined panties and wettening sleeping shorts. She wants to speak, to beg a little even, but isn't sure if she should. Would Santana be comfortable with that? Is that too much like how they were before? …No. It's really not, considering the first time they did /this/ she's pretty sure Santana was specifically trying to prove a point, and get a rise out of Rachel. It doesn't feel that way now, and she doesn't feel as nervous, or as though it's a competition. So… "

San- please? Just- it's been over a month," she whines.

Santana isn't sure what she wants or means, exactly, and so she hesitates, her hand still pressed against her, her lips twitching as she feels Rachel's dampness through her clothes.

"What do you want?"

"O-over the clothes? Maybe? I just-" She rocks her hips into Santana's hand again, moaning softly as the fabric of her panties and seem of her shorts rubs her clit at just the right angle. "I can- I mean- I can go in the bathroom, or something, if you don't want to—" Rachel struggles to say, embarrassed that she's in this position, now that Santana seems hesitant, but she knows that she's already too revved up, and one way or another she needs to get off if she actually wants to sleep at all.

Now that this is clear, Santana has no reservations whatsoever to helping her out. Leaning in to kiss her, she slides her hand up to completely cup Rachel through her clothes, giving pressure against her for just a few seconds before slipping her thumb into her cleft through the clothes. She is beginning to breathe more quickly herself, aroused at the feel of her dampness, somewhat frustrated at not being able to feel all of her skin, and she strokes her gently, sucking in her breath.

"/Fuck/", whines Rachel under her breath, voice tight as her breath quickens. It's not /direct/ contact, but it's certainly /purposeful/ contact, and Rachel already knows this is going to be embarrassingly short and effortless. Her hips roll, pace quickening with Santana's hand, her own hands going to the girl's shoulders and hanging on tightly, dark, dark eyes fluttering open to look up at Santana. Her skin is flush, lips parted as she pants, and small beads of sweat of starting to form on her brow. It's less than five minutes of Santana's all-too-talented hand working her up that she feels herself getting close, and she hides her face in the crook of Santana's neck before, with a moan of Santana's name, slams her eyes shut, cumming as her body tenses, then shakes.

Santana smothers a laugh into Rachel's neck, as amused as she is turned on by Rachel swearing. When Rachel comes, Santana feels almost as exhilarated herself from it, almost absurdly happy that she had been able to bring her to this point. She slowly removes her hand from between her legs and strokes it over Rachel's back, holding her close and kissing her forehead.

"Good?"

Rachel smiles, eyes still closed and body feeling boneless.

"Mmm… Every time…" she murmurs, then yawns with a small squeak. She sighs heavily, curling up into Santana more.

"Um… Are you…?" she asks, remembering that Santana didn't really get anything from this.

Santana shrugs one shoulder, pulling Rachel closer and subtly shifting herself so as little pressure is against her legs as possible. She's still pretty turned on herself, but she doesn't want to ask Rachel to do anything about it right now. She's pretty sure if she holds still long enough, she can will it away. Probably. "I'm fine….tired?"

Rachel doesn't really noticing Santana shifting around, she just nods her head.

"Yeah… The whole night has been really exhausting… But you made it better," she admits, letting her already loose body relax more. "I really missed you… Thank you… for coming back…"

"I missed you too," Santana says softly, twining her fingers into Rachel's hair and tugging lightly. She focuses on the feeling of her hair, trying to ignore how warm and soft she is against her, and gradually the throbbing between her legs begins to ease a little. "I'm not gonna go again.


	47. Chapter 47

Santana had not really wanted a party, at least not the typical huge, loud, chaotic party that Puck was normally known for throwing. She didn't want to turn 18 this year; it was that much closer to adulthood, which Santana could only so far admit to herself and to Brittany was a scary thought for her. She didn't like being a year older than Rachel, even if it was for only a month, and she didn't like the feeling of anxiety that it caused to think that next year she was really an adult and not able to back down from that, ever. She was sure that the majority of people who'd show up at the party wouldn't even realize or care that it was supposed to be her birthday too. But in the end Puck and Quinn and Brittany insisted that she have the party and go, and she hadn't wanted to have to explain why she wasn't really into it. At least she had managed to convince Rachel to come with her.

It had also taken some convincing for her mother to let her go, but in the end Maribel had allowed it, when Santana told her Rachel would be there too. As she entered the front door with Rachel, it's obvious even from the driveway that the party is already in full swing, with music blasting, random decorations strung about that seem as though their decorator gave up halfway through, and several clearly drunk people are already dancing, making out, and yelling over the music in the first section of Puck's house.

He hollers a greeting to her and slings an around around her shoulders as she comes in, giving Rachel a playful squeeze to her shoulder and claps Santana's back as he announces to everyone that the "birthday bitch" was there. Several people raise beer glasses and Santana can't decide whether she wants to smile or scowl in response, but she's soon deterred by an armful of Brittany launching herself at her. Santana hugs her and waits for her to let go before looking to Rachel.

"I definitely need a drink."

Rachel wasn't sure about going to a party at all, but it was /Santana's/ party, so…

There she is, hugging Noah as Brittany hugs Santana, and while she's smiling and happy, she's also incredibly confused and a little more than anxious. After all, only a few days ago, on Tuesday, Santana was being weird and mentioning dating , then on Wednesday they didn't really talk at all, and by the time Thursday came around Santana acted like it had never happened. But they still kissed, when Rachel went to Santana's to do homework, and...well, other stuff...yet they hadn't really talked about it.

Rachel was starting to seriously wonder what it all meant. One thing she did know, though, was that if Santana wanted to date her, then Santana had to make that move. Rachel had done all the move making last time, and well… she knew how /that/ turned out. So this was either on Santana's terms or not at all, so to speak.  
For now though, Rachel truly did want to enjoy the party with Santana, and when she mentioned a drink, the smaller girl smiled brightly.

"As unhealthy and illegal as this is, I won't stop you. Just don't disappear on me, okay?"

She didn't want to keep Santana from having fun, but she was a little worried that, at some point, Santana would leave her alone, to go off and hang with the other 'cool' kids, and the thought only added to her anxiousness, despite how she managed to smile in a teasing way.

Santana shakes her head, denying that she would or will, and in fact grabs her hand and pulls her towards the area where most of the alcohol seems to be coming from.

"I'm thinking unhealthy and illegal is the only way to roll tonight, so let's succumb to peer pressure or whatever weird way you'd phrase this," she teases lightly.

Taking one of the beers she's offered and passing one to Rachel as well, she opens it and swallows, then holds it up as though to toast. "Eighteen. Shit I'm old."

Rachel takes a sip, wincing at the taste, but swallows anyway and lifts her can up to Santana, smirking lightly. "To you," she says back. "Except you're not old, Santana. You're young, talented, and gorgeous beyond words. So hush." Rachel winks, taking another grimaced sip of the beer. "Ew… Is there something sweeter? This tastes terrible…"

Santana gestures vaguely around them, where various alcohol types in various containers are scattered about, and grabs a hard lemonade, thrusting it towards Rachel.

"Sweet and sour, maybe. You can be the sweet, I can be the sour," she said in a deliberately corny tone, rolling her eyes and smirking towards her. "Nope, I'm old."

She takes another swallow, then finishes off the rest of the beer pretty quickly before grabbing the wrist that is holding Rachel's drink, pulling her. "Okay here's the plan. We each have to have at least three or four before we dance so we don't notice people being lame, then we need to come back and have another few to make sure that we keep not noticing people being lame. Got it?"

Rachel stumbles a little into Santana, now holding the bottle of alcoholic lemonade instead of beer, and she giggles. "You are /not/ old. You're gorgeous."

Without thinking, Rachel leans up to kiss Santana's cheek, then nods. "Okay… but I'm a lightweight, I admit, so just… please don't let me get sloppy? I'd never live it down…"

Santana shrugs, reconsidering, and amends, "Okay, you have to have two drinks before you dance since you're like, an elf, and at least one after. But my standards stillapply ."

She smiles when Rachel kisses her, then swipes another beer for herself and opens it. "Cheers and Cheerios."

Rachel rolls her eyes, taking Santana's hand and dragging her to the main room where the majority of the party is. She knows that Brittany is off with Tina somewhere, Kurt and Mercedes are somewhere as well, but her focus is entirely on Santana as she drops down onto a couch, pulling Santana with her, and curling up in her side as she drinks more of her lemonade.

"So… this is nice… Loud. But nice."

Santana absently hooks an arm around Rachel's shoulders, already two beers down and reaching for a third as she replies distractedly. She is looking through the crowd at what everyone else is doing, partly to make sure that Quinn and Brittany in particular are okay, partly because she wants to make sure most of them leave her alone, and partly just because she's restless.

"Uh huh. Most of them don't know or care who I am but it's whatever, still cool."

Finishing off the third, only a short time after teh second and first, she bumps her fist to Rachel's. "One more to go!"

Rachel is only just starting on her second drink, and can't help but shake her head at the speed that Santana is chugging down the beer. She giggles, already feeling tipsy. She wasn't lying when she said she was a lightweight. Kissing Santana's cheek again, she drinks a long sip of her bottle, giggling again.

"Can- We need to dance soon," she says, right next to Santana's ear. "You're a sexy dancer. The most sexy. And everyone should know how sexy sexy sexy you are," rambles the not-so-sober Rachel Berry.

Santana isn't exactly sober herself. Having anticipated drinking and eating more than she's comfortable with at the party, she had managed to slip past Maribel's monitoring most of today with her eating and so is affected strongly by the rapid intake on a somewhat empty stomach. She giggles back, turning her head so her forehead bumps Rachel's, and reaches for her fourth beer.

"One more, WAIT miss non waiting person…" as she finishes this one, then gets to her feet, pulling Rachel up too, she is stumbling, hanging on her. "Everyone's gonna sees the sexy NOW!"

Rachel can't stop giggling, right up to the point where she's amidst a throng of other teenagers dancing to alarmingly loud music and Santana's chest is pressed right up against her back, hands on Rachel's hips and moving her own hips in synch. It makes Rachel giddy, and pleased, and she leans into the hold, rolling her hips and moving to the beat and rhythm with Santana effortlessly, more than okay with losing herself in the feel of Santana surrounding her and holding her tightly.

"You- you dance amazing," she breaths out, turning her head to speak almost directly into Santana's ear.

Santana grins, wrapping herself more firmly around Rachel, her hands still gripping her hips, stroking them lightly. She grinds into Rachel's backside, her chin hooked over her shoulder, and shouts back to her, "Your ass is amazing! I think Berry is like the perfect name because it's round and juicy!"

Rachel squeaked, giggling and blushing hotly. Turning around in Santana's arms, Rachel rolls her hips, grinding against Santana's pelvis with her own and giggling again as she feels the other girl's hands on her ass. It brought back memories of before, where Santana would slap her ass in the hall, or grab it when they were alone and making out. The memories had her smiling and blushing as she continued to dance with the girl, losing herself in how it felt, how /right/ it felt.

Santana has herself pretty much erased all boundaries of space and time in her memory; she has slipped back mentally so that to her, it is exactly how it used to be, with Rachel now hers to touch and grind against and dance with. Rachel is hers, in this moment, and she presses as hard against her as she can, her hand slipping up her shirt and caressing her stomach and ribs.

Rachel moans, forgetting, for a moment, where they are. That is, until she's knocked into by a jock, and sent practically falling into Santana's arms, face in the girl's chest (why did this always happen to her?). Scrambling to straighten up, her face somehow managing to get even /hotter/, Rachel coughs and looks away, fiddling with her hands.

"Um- I- I need to go to bathroom," she hurries out, loud enough for Santana to hear, and stumbles away quickly, heading down the hall, though not for the bathroom, as she's already forgotten what her excuse was. She just knew she needed to get a hold of herself. Before she made a fool of herself and Santana realized what a waste of time she was.

Santanais breathless, laughing, when Rachel is knocked into her, and she tries to hold her there before Rachel pulls away. Unsteady on her feet, she watches her leave, then reaches out towards her, although she is walking away and is out of earshot, she calls to her.

"Rachellllll we were getting sexy here!"

She starts to follow her, frequently knocking into people without stopping despite this.

Rachel stops, turning around in time to, once again, get a face full of Santana. Blinking, flailing to put distance between herself and the other girl, Rachel mostly just succeeds in losing her balance and falling into Santana's arms. Her hand flies out to catch herself, landing on Santana's right breast, and she squeaks, sputtering out drunken apologies and pulling away, finally ending up on her ass in her rush to not embarrass herself or grope Santana further. With an oof she falls, and her head is spinning from all the sudden movement. She pouts, lower lip quivering, and sniffs, positive she has officially made a complete and utter fool out of herself.

Santana giggles at first, trying to catch Rachel and almost falling herself in the process. When Rachel grabs at her breast her heart seems to skip a beat, and she feels flushed and warm all over and more than a little turned on. As Rachel falls, Santana blinks, looking down at her, and then bends over, stretching out a hand and pulling at her ineffectively in an attempt to help her up, but instead she loses her balance herself and falls into Rachel's lap. Snorting with laughter, she sprawls across her, not even trying to get up.

Rachel squeals, falling flat on her back, hands near her head and legs somewhat spread, Santana between them and atop her. She blinks, heat racing through her body and a very particular kind of throb hitting her core as she feels all of Santana against all of her. It's incredibly inappropriate, given that they're in the middle of a side hallway and somewhat could find them at any moment, but all Rachel can think about right now is Santana's firm body on her own, and her brain (already fogged by intoxication) now completely jumps out the window.

"H-hi," she squeaks, eyes wide and glazed over. "Um…"

Santana is still seeming to have no tendency to try to move. In fact, she curls up in Rachel's lap, legs sprawled across her, nuzzling her head into Rachel's chest and snaking her arm around her waist.

"You're soft and warm," she announced, rubbing her leg against Rachel's. "Hi. Don't move."

Rachel just nods dumbly, unable to make words. She swallows thickly, trying to do as told, but as soon as she feels rubbing against her leg she whimpers, hips rolling up against Santana's pelvis, and her heart rate jumps. She squirms under the taller girl, but it only manages to get Santana's thigh inbetween her own, pressing /right there/, and she squeaks again, feeling herself starting to get wet from the unintentional stimulation.

Santana makes a noise in her throat, almost like a purr, in response to this and pulls Rachel more firmly against her, still half burying her face in the girl's chest. She squirms too, and then, after a few seconds, starts to stroke her hand over Rachel's hip.

"Guess what," she tells her in a whisper that is anything but quiet; anyone walking down the hallway would probably be able to hear even over the background noise of the party. "I've got a secret."

Rachel eyes have fluttered closed, and her body is melting in the familiarity of Santana's touch, every so often rubbing herself more against the other girl's thigh. She barely hears her speak, but when she does, Rachel forces her eyes open, biting her lip, then asking, "Wh-what is it?" in a small, anxious voice, her hands finally going to grip Santana's shoulders, though making no move to get away or make Santana go away.

Santana continues to nuzzle into Rachel like a cat, her eyes closed, and occasionally the odd almost purring noise escapes her throat. It's another thirty seconds or so before she speaks again, in the same very loud whisper.

"You're hot."

Rachel 's hips jerk, and a small flood of wetness dampens her panties against Santana's thigh at the girl's words.

"Oh- um-" she stutters, "You're- you're really hot, too. The- the hottest. Ever, actually. And- and really gorgeous. And sexy. And- uh-"

She sputters to an end, about to mention that they should get up, when a drunk jock stumbles into the hall, laughing loudly.

"Yeah, Lopez!" he calls out, words slurring. "Hump dat bitch into the floor, yo! Get it!"

He falls over at that point, passed out several feet away from them, but Rachel as already frozen up, spine stiffening as she hides her way against Santana's neck and tries to disappear.

Santana grins, giggling again directly into Rachel's chest as she feels the girl's dampness against her thigh, and she shifts so her leg is pressed into Rachel's center more firmly, enjoying this. She makes no move to stand or get up off her, and in fact is starting to talk again even as Rachel is babbling.

"I got another secret. It's totally screwed up but-" as the jock comes across them and yells at them, Santana's smile slips, and she disentangles herself from Rachel with some difficulty, trying to get to her feet and ending up rolling off her into a heap on the floor beside her. Ignoring the pain in her elbow from this, she starts to basically crawl towards the guy, intending to beat on him.

Rachel moves surprisingly quickly, managing to tackle Santana from behind and wrapping herself around the woman's back.

"Please don't," she begs, words falling out without filter, "Can we just go home? Somewhere? Please? I'm tired an' drunk and- uh- t-turned on and I just want you to hold me. Please?"

Santana shrugs her shoulders irritably, wanting Rachel to let her go.

"Noooo gonna kill him! Gonna tear out his tongue and….stuck it up his ass crack and…then he's licking himself out and so THERE smartass….lemme go…" but after a few moments she stops fighting her and slumps back into her, covering Rachel's hands with hers. "Okayyyyy mean. Supposed to be your knight and you won't even let me."

Rachel hugs Santana tighter, forehead between the girl's shoulder blades.

"He's passed out," she mumbled. "And a good knight takes her princess home where it's safe, and nice, and they can cuddle or something."

She leans up awkwardly to kiss Santana's neck, though it's sloppy, and sniffles again.

Santana scowls, though it softens when Rachel kisses her.

"I wanna kill him. You should let me…I wanna kill him."

But she says it more softly and doesn't make a move to do so. Instead she squeezes Rachel's hands.

"It's my birthday. I'm old now. I'm old and you're young but you're still totally hot and you're pretty too which doesn't always happen…and I just wanna be with you and we should be together again because you're so awesome even when you totally piss me off and betray me and anyway I love you so it's okay…."

Rachel shuffles to sit on Santana's lap, looking at her and pecking the cheerleader's lips softly.

"I-" she swallows, "I love you, too… So… can we go home? I… I know this is your party, but… I think we could have more fun just us… You know?"

Rachel smiles, and it's not as coy or flirty as she wants it to be, but it's sincere, and kisses Santana again, this time slower, pressing herself more firmly against Santana.

Santana's mouth is already open when Rachel kisses her, and she is taken by surprise, though Rachel had telegraphed that she was about to. She adapts quickly enough, kissing her back, and she moans into her mouth softly, one hand reaching up to tangle in her hair.

"Mmmm alright. 'cause we should be together because of the love and stuff."

Rachel pulls back, nodding, brain fried once more due to the kiss, even though she had initiated it.

"Y-yeah. Love and stuff. And- and you're sexy."

Eventually, Rachel stood up, legs shaky, and clenched her thighs together. The kiss had reignited her horniness, and she was trying to ignore it, but alcohol + Santana's… Santana-ness was making that very, very hard.

Santana is enjoying the kiss, but she is growing sleepy and compliant now, for once, not quite as turned on as Rachel is, but rather is the one this time who is cuddly and snuggly. Not entirely aware of the extent of Rachel's hormones, she tries to get to her feet when Rachel does but requires assistance. Once up,she wraps herself around Rachel's back like a backpack, which undoubtedly will make it difficult for her to move, and sighs into her shoulderblades.

"Uh huh I am. We are soooo sexy."

Rachel stumbles at the girl's weight. Though she doesn't actually weigh much more than Rachel, she does have more muscle, and is a few inches taller, not to mention isn't holding herself up much and Rachel is drunk. Overall, Rachel can't really walk without nearly falling over, and says as much. "

S-santana? You need to- You need to m-move," slurs the smaller girl. "M'too small to carry you."

Santana either can't or won't understand this and insists on hanging onto Rachel, doing little more to help her along than dragging her feet forward in a shuffle, her face still pressed between Rachel's shoulders. When she finally notices that Rachel is stumbling and clues in belatedly to what she had said, she whines without words, only very reluctantly staggering back.

"Not fairrrr. I wanna be the one who gets carried….what if I took off my shoes and got short…"

Rachel giggles, turning to hug Santana around the neck and pecking her cheek.

"'Tanaaaaaaa. If you got short you- you couldn't protect me, remember? And it'd be harder to hold me. And-AND um… I like you tall. Taller than me, at least. You have more… More /you/ because of it," insists Rachel.

Santana whines again, barely submitting to Rachel kissing her, and pushes her shoulder against her half heartedly, but then lets her hug her.

"Want to be short. It's my birthday and I wanna be short."

Normally Santana doesn't really think about her height one way or the other, since it's very average, but at the moment, since they've managed to skirt around the white elephant of weight, she's grasping onto this without even quite realizing it.

"You're too little, not fair."

Rachel pulls back, frowning, her shoulders sagging a little as her fuzzled brains translates Santana's words into "You're not good enough and too small and ugly".

"Oh…", Rachel mumbles, pulling away and drawing into herself. "S-Sorry… Um… I'm sorry…"

She doesn't know what else to say. After all, she can't change her height, no matter what she does short of breaking her shins and extending her legs via painful surgery (she looked into it when she was 12 the first time she got called an ugly midget), and that's expensive, and painful, and not an option.

"I'll… I'll just walk home, then…" and she turns away, stumbling a little, heading back to entrance of the house to find her jacket.

Santana's brow furrows as Rachel pulls apart from her, and she reaches out towards her, snatching at her without actually making contact.

"Whattt…why are you going…we were gonna be together 'cause of the love and stuff!"

Rachel stops, shrugging, but not turning to face Santana.

"M'too short for your love and stuff. You said so," she replies, suddenly on the edge of crying. She's not sure when she became weepy, but it also isn't something she can really think about, because Santana thinks she's an ugly midget and can't actually love her because of that, or something.

Santana blinks, mouth open, and her eyebrows slant towards her nose as she stumbles a few steps towards her, shaking her head, which quickly makes her dizzy. She stops, reaching to brace herself on the wall, and points at Rachel with a slightly unsteady finger.

"I did not! You're walking away and you're leaving me and you won't carry me and it's my birthday…and you're all young and little and I'm old and big and it's not fair but I just love you anyway so you can't leave!"

Rachel turns to Santana, brows furrowed.

"You said I was too little!" retorts Rachel, a hand flying out to steady herself on the opposite wall before she falls over. "And- and you're not /old/! You're- you're just /older/. And older people are hot! Like- um- like Anna Hathaway. And- and J-Lo. And Beyonce! You get to be a Beyonce, and I'm just… short and ugly and little…"

Santana shakes her head again, which sends fresh spirals of dizziness through her, and she leans fully back into the wall to try to counterbalance.

"No you are not…shut up. Are not. You're like….Rachel."

She blinks, remembering some of what Rachel had said.

"Am I really like 'cause she's awesome…but she's got a hugeass ass."

Rachel pouts, still unsure of whether or not to actually believe Santana.

"You like asses…" she says back, recalling how Santana had been all over hers just twenty or so minutes earlier. "And she's /curvalicious/, like what Noah says."

Santana shrugs, slowly attempting to peel herself off the wall.

"Yeahhhh but hers is like…freakanature…I don't wanna be a planet ass."

She attempts to walk to Rachel, having to put out her arms almost like she's walking a balance beam a few times. A few feet from Rachel, swaying, arms out, she looks at her, squinting, and says in all seriousness, "I think you're DRUNK."

Rachel narrows her eyes, blinking.

"Um… Yes. Yes I am," she confirms, unsure of why Santana is mentioning it.

She blinks again, then looks down, right at Santana's chest, recalling her face having been in that chest twice tonight. It was nice. If kinda embarrassing. Looking back up at Santana's face, Rachel pouts.

"Can we go home now?"

Santana nods, finally managing to make her way to Rachel and grabbing her arm.

"You don't get carried," she informs her, even as she starts to tug her forward, half supporting and half being supported by her. It hasn't yet occurred to her that driving would likely be a terrible idea.

Rachel, deciding that drastic times calls for drastic measures, plops down right on the steps outside the house as soon as they make it there.

"Then I'm not going. Driving drunk is bad. And if you leave me alone I'll be really sad and won't give you your birthday present and stuff."

Santana blinks down at Rachel, standing over her, and nudges at her several times.

"You're being mean. It's my birthday and you just keep getting your way."

Rachel shrugs, "That's 'cause you're being a cranky-pants, and trying to drive drunk. And my birthday present to you is all about you getting your way and stuff. So it evens out. And you love me, remember?"

Santana pouts, almost Rachel style, and crosses her arms over her chest, attempting to weigh this out, and in the end she slumps down beside Rachel on the steps, resting her head against her shoulder and mumbling, "Fineeeeee mean."

About 30 minutes later Rachel found herself in pajamas, on her bed, cuddled under the blankets with Santana. It was 11:30 on a Saturday, the party at Noah's was most likely still going strong, and yet here she was, with the birthday girl, half asleep and feeling cozy, as well as a bit more sober than she had been earlier. Shuffling closer to Santana, head just under Santana's chin and legs tangled together, Rachel sighed happily.

"M'sorry your birthday wasn't as cool as you wanted it to be," she murmured sleepily.

Santana is curled up close to Rachel, her limbs wrapped around her, but she is still in a more cuddly state of being than a horny one, and she nuzzles her nose at the top of Rachel's head. She is still pretty well drunk and any inhibitions with her mouth are gone just about now.

"I don't think I care about it being cool because you're not cool and I dont' care and I wanna be with you. You're so warmmmm," she mumbles, her nose buried in Rachel's hair, eyes closed. "Why did I dump you when you're so warmmmm?"

Rachel smiled, kissing Santana's sternum, sighing.

"You always said I was too cold," was her reply, words still slurred from sleepiness and alcohol. "And you dumped me cuz I did a stupid thing… I don't regret it… but I wish I had thought it through…"

Santana isn't really listening to her and wouldn't react even if she did hear. She nuzzles her cheek now against Rachel's hair, inhaling its scent, and squirms closer.

"You're warm and soft and that was dumb," she continues to mumble sleepily. "I'm dumb. Shouldn't dump something this awesome. Dumbbbb me. Why am I dumb? I love you wayyyyy too much to dump you. And your ass is wayyyyy too awesome."

As she drifts off, wrapped around Rachel, she is vaguely aware of her own smile.


	48. Chapter 48

Rachel's head was pounding as she slowly became conscious, and even behind her tightly closed eyelids she could see sunlight pouring in through the window, the shades wide open. She grimaced, whimpering a little, and shoved her face more into the smothering warmth of her pillow. It was weird how warm her pillow was, though. And- wait- was that a heartbeat? Pillows didn't have heartbeats. Groaning in confusion, Rachel slowly opened her eyes and moved her head back just a little.

Ah. Right. Santana's chest. That would explain it.

Sighing heavily, letting her body once more relax, she closed her eyes again, trying to ignore her headache, and how queasy her stomach felt, whilst desperately working to remember what happened last night, and if she had said anything stupid.

Santana is slower to come awake. Her face is still tipped forward into Rachel's hair, and when she starts to stir, she too at first doesn't realize where she is or what she is curled up to. She only knows that she is very warm, overheated, and that whatever she is touching is cooler, so she shifts herself to move closer to it, groaning. Even this slight movement made her stomach slosh, nauseated, and little spikes of pain shoot through her temple. She groans again and shuts her eyes more tightly.

Rachel shifts a little, moving so that she can more easily snuggle into Santana's chest. As she lets out a deep breath, she licks her lips, wincing at the dryness, which then makes her very aware of her dry throat, and as her other senses start to awaken more, she can't help but whimper unhappily. She wants to go back to sleep, and not be in any sort of pain, and certainly not move away from Santana, who is like a furnace under the covers and it's incredibly comfortable. As she continues to try and adjust herself, Rachel is suddenly aware that Santana's thigh is nestled between her legs, and though it is the very last thing on her mind, it makes her moan a little, and on instinct she tries to move away.

Santana feels Rachel move and instinctively fights this without opening her eyes, tightening her grip around her and mumbling without words in protest. Her thigh shift more tightly against Rachel, Rachel's face drawn into her chest, and she wraps her fingers around a fistful of Rachel's shirt.

Rachel whimpers as Santana's thigh presses more firmly against her, the sound muffled by the girl's shirt-covered breasts. After a few more attempts at getting away, all shut-down easily by the cheerleader's superior strength and positioning, Rachel finally gives in, letting her body go lax against Santana's own. All the struggling, however, as only served to rub herself against Santana's bare thigh, and she swallows thickly, trying to ignore the fact that she's slowly getting wet, and that the stimuli is forcing her headache and nausea to the back of her mind.

Santana is breathing deeply, comfortable in positioning, but after a few more minutes of almost drifting back to sleep, her nausea intensifies, and she starts to move around instinctively, meaning to sit up or roll over, to take deeper, steadying breaths. When she finds that it is difficult to move, due to her position with Rachel, she is still slow to figure out what's going on. Eyes barely slitted open, she blinks down at Rachel.

"What…." then some fragments of memory from the night before come to mind, and she tries to motivate herself to pull away, but doesn't quite manage.

Rachel bites down on her tongue hard, taking deep breaths as she waits for Santana to settle down and just /not move/ because every attempt it just causes that one thigh to press harder against her, and Rachel only has so much fortitude, and that fortitude tends to not exist when she's around Santana. Finally, as she notices Santana begin to awake, she manages to look up from the girl's chest, eyes tired and somewhat bloodshot.

"Um… hi…?" she manages, voice still mostly muffled, as well as laden with weariness.

Santana blinks at Rachel again, her eyes blurry, and she tries to force them open all the way. The fist that is gripped around Rachel's shirt loosens, and she attempts to bring it up to her face to rub at her eyes, but her coordination is off and she ends up clumsily knuckling herself in one eye instead.

"Oww…"

Rachel smiles a little, now able to move better, and leans up, finding the way her head spins at the motion, to gently kiss Santana's eyebrow. She settles back down, finally putting some space between them, and shuffles up to share the pillow with Santana.

"You okay…" Rachel asks quietly.

Santana's lips twitch into an involuntary smile at the kiss, and as she nestles her head next to Rachel's on the pillow, her lower legs touching Rachel's, her arms and hands now curled up against her own chest but making contact with Rachel's too, she starts to nod, then groans yet again, her head not appreciating the motion.

"I may be dead or something."

She is starting to try to think back through the memories that had flitted through her mind, to piece them together into some kind of order.

Rachel giggles, though it's a little hoarse, and she decides it's a terribly unattractive sound. But she continues to give the girl next to her a small smile, and lets her eyes droop in a relaxed state.

"You're not allowed to die," she replies, moving her hand a little to grasp onto one of Santana's, squeezing it lightly. "Who'll complain about how cold I am?"

Santana lets Rachel take her hand, squeezing back, and moves her head against the pillow so it is lightly touching Rachel's, their hair mingling. Absently she rubs her thumb over the back of Rachel's hand.

"Your ten billion stuffed animals."

She is pretty sure she said some things to Rachel last night. A LOT of things, actually….what was it exactly?

Rachel breathes in, letting out the air slowly, and moving an inch closer to Santana so that she can kiss the girl's knuckles.

"They aren't warm like you, though…" is her sleepy reply, and she yawns a little, wincing at the effort.

Settling back again, Rachel opens her eyes a little wider to look at Santana, biting her lip. She has vague memories of what was said, but it's jumbled mostly. Still… what she DOES remember makes her heart race, while her stomach does anxious flips, making her feel queasy for an entirely different reason.

"So… um… Do… remember anything from last night?"

Santana had been starting to close her eyes again, perfectly content with just lying back with Rachel and trying to go back to sleep, but when Rachel speaks, she looks back at her, trying again to think through the night before. She frowns, searching her confused memories, and as she starts to make a little sense of it, her own eyes start to widen, and she sucks in her breath, embarrassed. Had she seriously told Rachel that she wanted to get back with her….that she was sorry she had broken up with her?

Sure, she had sort of come to that conclusion a lot before...and it also wasn't the first time they'd had sex, post break up. But it was definitely the first time it had been voiced so plainly.

Rachel takes in Santana's reaction, and as Santana's eyes widen, Rachel moves away a little to give her space. She waits, before realizing that Santana isn't going to say anything, and slowly sits up, wincing and biting back the nausea all the way. When she finally feels like she can function a little, Rachel makes to move off the bed.

"Okay… well then… I should probably go…" she looks back at Santana, her smile now sad. "For that it's worth, though, even if you didn't mean it… I still love you…"

Santana swallows, struggling, and closes her eyes, taking in several breaths though her nose. But when Rachel mentions leaving, starting to move, she reaches out, stopping her with a faint hand to her arm.

"I…hold on."

Rachel stops, sitting back down on the bed, realizing that it would be weird for her to go, given that this is her own house. Where would she go anyway? And she can't just leave Santana… Besides, the girl's words tug at her heart, and something akin to hope is trying to bubble up in her, even as she tries to smother it.

Santana takes in another breath, the words sticking in her throat before she can force them out. She knows that they are true, she knows what she feels, and yet it is so hard to let go of her control, hard to make herself deliberately vulnerable…hard to let go of the last pieces of anger and bitterness that remain. She exhales it all out, her shoulders slumping, and when she lifts her eyes back to Rachel, she manages.

"I did mean it."

Rachel's breath hitches, and she swallows thickly, fists tightening in the sheets of her bed. Fighting back tears, she forces herself to speak.

"W-which part?" Her words are shaky, but she has to know. Santana said a lot, after all. And one thing didn't automatically mean another…

Santana licks her lips, eyes lowering briefly, but then she looks back up at Rachel, and slowly reaches for her hands on the sheets. She covers them with hers before she says quietly, "All of it."

Rachel turns a little to face Santana, a smile trying to force its way over her lips.

"So… then… Do you… Do you have something to ask me?" are her tentative words back.

Santana takes another breath, then squeezes Rachel's hands. Facing her fully, she manages, "Rachel….I guess…I mean, I know…I want to get back. Together. Okay?"

But she can't help but add, "Don't make a big thing of it."

Rachel raises her brow, nodding slowly. And despite Santana's words, well, she's not going to make a big thing of it, but she /is/ going to get the one thing she wants here.

"I want to get back together as well," she says, but adds, "However, in order for that to happen, I believe a question has to be asked."

Santana is surprised by this and looks at her with her head cocked slightly, waiting.

"What question and should I get really suspicious now…"

Rachel sighs, smiling a little.

"Santana, if we're getting back together, how do you expect that to happen if you don't, you know, /ask me/" she emphasis, hoping to help the girl along. She asked last time, damn it. It's definitely Santana's turn. Especially since she broke them up to begin with.

Santanadoesn't understand what she means and frowns at her, confused.

"I did. What are you talking about?"

Rachel raises her brow. "Um… No you didn't… You said you wanted to get back together. That was it…"

Santana sees no difference here.

"Yeah, exactly, I said that and that's what you want and that's what I want so how else am I supposed to say it?"

Rachel continues to stare at Santana, until finally she sighs. She knows she's being stubborn about this, but Rachel honestly believes she has the right to be, for once. She stands up, taking a moment to let her stomach settle, and lets out a slow breath.

"I'm going to go downstairs and make breakfast. When you figure out the very important someone should ask in order to make someone their significant other, feel free to say them."

Santana has no idea what the hell is bothering Rachel since she just TOLD her she wants to be with her, what is the friggin difference, what exactly is she supposed to say that's so different than what she just did? Is she supposed to get on one knee and propose? Her body isn't allowing for anything too elaborate, and she says as much as Rachel starts to get up.

"Hey, I can't turn cartwheels and somersaults for you or you'll be sorry, and breakfast is a bad idea too."

But as Rachel leaves and she's thinking over it, half irritated, it eventually dawns on her that Rachel probably actually wants her to say "will you be my girlfriend" or something like that. Totally unnecessary, since Rachel already KNEW she wanted her to, but whatever.

Rachel hums quietly to herself in the kitchen, searching through the fridge and cabinets for proper breakfast food. In the end, she settles on omelets, and, since she's not sure if Santana will actually eat, chooses to make her own first. That way, if Santana wants one as well, she can always go back and make it later.

Santana soon gets bored of lying back in bed waiting for Rachel, and eventually she slowly throws back her sheets and gets to her feet. The smell of the cooking eggs newly turns her stomach, and she covers her mouth and nose as she enters the kitchen, slumping into a chair. She waits until she is in control before taking several breaths in and muttering under her breath, then repeating more loudly, "Rachel…do you want to be my girlfriend?"

She barely stops herself from adding "again" or "is that what you want me to say" at the end.

Rachel handing Santana a glass of water, as well as an Advil, Rachel smiles brightly, her own painkiller already kicking in.

"Yes, Santana Lopez, I would love to be your girlfriend. Consider us officially back together again."

She leans over the counter, pecking Santana on the cheek, before going back to her omelet.

Santana rolls her eyes at her, but she can't suppress her smile. Taking the pills and swallowing them down with water, she watches Rachel eat, still somewhat groggy and sluggish, but she is still smiling faintly. She's back with Rachel, and as lame as it was to have to spell it out, it feels right.

Rachel looks up at Santana from her food, giggling a little and blushing shyly, unable to help but feel strangely giddy and pleased.

"Would you like an omelet, Santana? Or maybe just some toast?" she asks, setting her fork down.

Santana shakes her head, but she is still smiling, and she reaches across the counter for Rachel's hand, fork and all.

"You and your official crap."

Rachel giggled, blushing a little more clearly.

"Well, if I couldn't get something romantic, I at least wanted something official," she teased, moving to hold Santana's hand. "Besides, you /still/ went along with it. So there."

Santana shrugs, squeezing her fingers back.

"You wouldn't give me a choice." Imitating Rachel's voice, widening her eyes and making it high, earnest, and self-righteous overly in tone, she says, "You can't DATE me untill you ASK me right, first you have to be certain all our life goals and aspirations are perfectly aligned with the stars!"

Rachel stuck her tongue out, using her free hand to reach over and smack Santana on the shoulder.

"Stop that! Honestly, Santana. If I waited for us to actually be, I don't know, realistically compatible and for you to be 100% of any of that, we'd never get around to dating . Ever."

Santana rubs her shoulder overdramatically, poking Rachel back, but she's still smiling.

"Yeah good luck on that." Then she pauses, catching some of the statement. "Realistically compatible?"

Rachel just shrugs, standing up and taking her plate to the sink.

"Let's be honest, Santana. No one in their wildest dreams, ourselves included, ever thought we'd be together. We're incredibly different, and the ways we're alike you'd think we'd kill each other before we ever kissed. We went about everything backwards, and have been in a whirlwind of worries and heartache almost since this started."

She turned to face the girl, leaning back on the counter, sighing. "And yet, here we are. And somehow, we actually /work/. It doesn't make sense, but it works, and it's right. If it wasn't, we wouldn't be back here again, together."

Santana considers all this, and eventually has to nod. Rachel had definitely put it plainly and truthfully enough; she didn't know how or why they worked, and as often as they did, they didn't, but she couldn't deny anymore that she wanted them to.

"Well you do like your romantic fantasies."

Rachel hummed in agreement, before making her way over to Santana, turning the girl's stool and placing herself between her legs, her arms on Santana's shoulders.

"I do, yes. And somehow I find myself hopelessly in love with the least romantic person in this town. But maybe that's a romance story all its own."

Santana automatically wraps her arms around Rachel's waist, pulling her torso in closer, and kisses the tip of her nose before replying.

"I am not. You've met Puck, haven't you?"

Rachel smirks lightly.

"I have, yes… He gave me a slushie to drink, though. You, essentially, pushed me up against a wall and had me screaming your name…"

She kissed Santana's lips chastely, pulling away only a few inches. "Effect, and hot, but not /quite/ romantic. He also sang to me," teased Rachel.

Santana lets Rachel kiss her, but she's actually getting bothered by what she's saying and doesn't kiss her back. She wracks her brain, trying to think of someone else who is less romantic than she is, then says triumphantly, "Dave Karofsy, Azimio, all the footballers, no way am I at the bottom of the list."

Rachel rolls her eyes.

"Santana, sweetie, it's a joke. And it also doesn't matter. I'm /with you/, remember? I am in love /with you/. I enjoy kissing, cuddling, teasing, being teased by, dating , holding hands, etc, etc, with you, and you alone. We got back together two minutes ago. Please just let us enjoy that."

Santana rolls her eyes back, even as she mutters back, "I am not the least romantic person in town. I can romance your ass off when I want to. I'll do it, if I feel like it."

Leaning forward, she kisses her hard.

88

Tumblr anon post: soooo would you ever date Rachel Berry?

Brittany: Santana and Rachel are dating. II think. would totally not date Rachel, reindeer sweaters are not my thing (sorry for killing your dreams Rachel). And me, I'm not seeing _anyone_'cause apparently I'm lame and no one wants me.

Santana: That's not true, honey. You are not. And people do want you

Brittany: You have to say that, it's like your best friend duty. Really, no one does, it's pretty depressing.

Santana: No if you were lame I'd say so, I tell everyone else, don't I? Britt, EVERYONE wants you.

Brittany: Yeah, but you're nice to me so I don't think you'd tell me if I was lame or not. Not anymore… it's probably because I started wear underwear again.

Santana: I totally would in a second. If things were different. And Britt, I doubt that. A lot.

Brittany: You'd be too scared to make me cry. You would slowly quit being my friend and then stop talking to me all together. You shouldn't, that's probably the reason.

Santana: Brittany….I will never stop being your friend. Ever. No matter what. We're best friends forever, you promised me. Do you have any idea how much I love you? How awesome and beautiful you are?

(receives no response)

88

Worried about Brittany and feeling very guilty as well, Santana eventually puts down her phone and just heads over to Brittany's house after school. Not bothering to knock on the front door, she makes her way upstairs and into Brittany's room, sitting across from her on her bed and taking both her hands as she talks to her intently.

"Britt, how sad are you? You're not gonna do anything bad, right? You know I love you. I really, really love you and anyone would be crazy not to see how awesome you are."

She has a feeling that the fact that she and Rachel are back together again, and her strained relationship with Brittany ever since finding out about her part in keeping silent about Rachel's bullying by the Skanks is starting to get to the other girl. And if the rumor mills churning about are at all accurate, then Brittany's friendship with Tina, if it had ever even fully manifested in the first place, was strained too. Angry as she was at what had happened with Brittany, Rachel, and Tina, Santana was trying to get past it, for Rachel's sake if no one else's. But no matter how wrong she had been, she hated to see Brittany sad.

The blonde girl was completely in shock when she saw Santana coming into her room due to the fact she'd attempted to lock the door and thought she had succeeded. By the look on Santana's face, she knew this was something serious so she reached over to turn down her music; before she could even put her hands down in her lap Santana had ahold of them.

"I mean, if bad is lying in bed and listening to music then yes. I know you do… I guess that means everyone is absolutely nuts."

Santana kept hold of her hands, squeezing them lightly as she held Brittany's gaze with hers, searching her eyes.

"Britt, you gotta put yourself out there and go for who you want. I promise they want you too. Who do you want?"

Brittany furrowed her eyebrows as she pulled her hands away from Santana's so she could flop back on the bed again.

"I've never had to put myself out there; usually people come to me, but not anymore. I can't tell you who I want… you're won't be very happy."

Santana frowns too as Brittany pulls back, lying down beside her and facing her without touching now, propping her chin in her hand.

"It's not Rachel, is it…or is it still me? If it's not either of us, don't worry about me, just go for it. I won't be mad, I promise. I want you to be happy, Britt, I hate to see you sad."

Brittany pulls her pillow over her head and groans before taking it off her face again.

"Gross, it's definitely not Rachel, I wouldn't date her ever- no offense. And it's not you, either. It's… It's Tina. I really like her and she likes me too, but I don't know if anything will ever happen."

Santana can only be glad that Brittany can't see her through her pillow, because she knows that her expression would immediately show that her previous promise not to get upset was a complete lie. Santana went completely still, not trusting herself to respond at first, and after nearly a full minute her voice still sounded strained when she replied.

"You…do? You want…Tina?"

Tina, who she couldn't stand? Tina, who actually pitied her? Tina, who everyone liked way more than Santana? Tina, who had seen her breakdown in the bathroom and actually apologized for calling her Satan? TINA?!

The blonde nodded her head slowly. Santana had no clue how much she liked Tina, she didn't want to say a thing out of fear she would really upset her. She knew that Santana and Tina didn't like each other very much, that wasn't really a secret considering how vocal Santana was about it. The fact that the two didn't enjoy each other- that was the reason she didn't tell Santana about her feelings for Tina before this.

"I told you, you wouldn't be very happy." She turned her head so she was looking at Santana now.

Santana can't deny that this is true and doesn't even try to lie about it. Turning her head away from Brittany, attempting to hide her expression from her, she clears her throat, both hands now clinching her knees as she tries desperately to think of something to say that Brittany would actually be okay with hearing.

"I guess….it's not…surprising…"

It's taking all her effort not to start yelling and freaking out, or maybe even crying as she tries to wrap her mind around this

Of course Brittany had upset Santana by telling her about Tina that was all she was good at anymore, yet at the same time she felt happy. She was happy that she finally got to tell her best friend who she liked. The two used to stay at each other's houses and go on and on about the people they liked, but not anymore. Not since Rachel and Tina came into the picture. Brittany sat up again so she could see at least a bit of Santana's face.

"Do you wish it wasn't Tina that I liked?"

Santana sees Brittany moving, trying to see her face, and she deliberately turns a little more away from her, trying to mask the gesture by tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She exhales without quite intending to, pressing her lips together in a thin line and trying not to let her shoulders hunch up as she responds, still tightly.

"I want you to be happy, Britt."

It was the truth, but it also wasn't a real answer.

Brittany places her hand on Santana's shoulder, hoping that maybe she would turn around even though she didn't really expect her to. Why Santana was being this way was beyond Brittany, she knew she'd be upset, but didn't think she'd curl up in a ball and barely say anything at all.

"I think what you mean is, you want me to be happy, but not with Tina."

As Brittany says this, Santana knows that it's true, that the girl is more insightful than she's often given credit for- and she knows Santana very well. Yet how can she admit to this? How can she even let herself feel that way, when Brittany is her best friend? yet it's BECAUSE Brittany is her best friend that she can't stand the thought of this, because if Tina already means so much to her, it won't be long at all before Tina totally replaces her- Tina!

"I want you to be happy," she says under her breath, still not really responding.

Santana laying there, not saying much at all upset Brittany, obviously she didn't expect Santana to be crazy happy about the situation, but she thought that she'd get more than this and actually at this point Brittany wanted some sort of emotion from Santana whether it be crying or anger she honestly didn't care.

"Okay then." Brittany rolled her eyes and sighed. "But if it makes you feel any better I used to want you to be happy with _anyone_ other than Rachel."

Santana doesn't respond at first; contrary to what it probably looks like to Brittany, she actually is feeling quite a lot and is simply doing all she can not to show it. Her jaw is clinched to try to keep herself in check, and she is holding back the tears wanting to come to her eyes that she is not sure are provoked more from anger or from suppressed panic, but either way, Brittany's words to her do little to help with it. Forgetting that she's trying not to look at her for the moment, she turns towards her.

"Why anyone other than Rachel? Rachel was always nice to you. Tina isn't to me. She called me Satan, you know," she adds as an afterthought, even though that hadn't ever really bothered her and Tina had in fact just apologized for it.

When Santana turned around, Brittany shrugged her shoulders. There were a lot of reasons she didn't want Santana to be happy with Rachel, but she was trying to figure out a way to express them all without upsetting her any more.

"Because Rachel's… Rachel, I don't know." That was the only way she could explain it without insulting her. "It has a lot to do with how you guys ended up together and because I was feeling replaced. I knew that if she could replace me as your girlfriend she could easily take over the role of best friend. And I wanted you to be with me, not her. I'm okay with it now, you're happy with her, so I'm happy for you. The name calling isn't nice, but I'm pretty positive you've called Tina way worse names than that haven't you?"

Santana is still blinking frequently, trying not to cry where Brittany will see as she responds. "She won't, ever. She's my girlfriend. You're my best friend. Always. Forever. ALWAYS…right? You won't let anyone take over that? Because I think you are."

She ignores the part about calling Tina worse names precisely because it's true.

Brittany smiled and nodded her head. "Forever and ever and ever. Do you really think I'm letting Tina take over that role? I mean, she does mean a lot to me and everything, but _you're_ my best friend, no matter how much I like someone you're always going to be that."

To be quite honest, Brittany could say that same thing to Santana, she too felt like Rachel was taking over her place as best friend. She kept herself quiet about that though.

Santana takes a slow breath, still trying to calm down without letting Brittany know that she needs to. She digs her nails lightly into her knees before she answers, giving her a small, forced smile. She heard what Brittany was saying, about Santana always being her best friend, but it was so hard for her to believe that now. Still she nodded, as though she had no doubt. "Good. Then…I'm glad you're happy…and…she better be nice to you."

But not too nice because Santana totally didn't want to share. Or see it. Or hear it.


	49. Chapter 49

Although things have slowly been returning to a fairly good place again with Rachel, especially after her birthday, Santana is now having a more difficulty time, now that the girl has gone on vacation with her fathers until New Year's. It is harder than she had anticipated to have Rachel gone, to know that every day, it is impossible to go to her physically if she really needs to. Of course she has Brittany and Quinn, and both would be there for her if she needed, but it's not RACHEL, and until Rachel is not physically available to her, she hadn't realized how much she missed at least seeing her, even when she's angry or upset with her.

Holidays, especially this year, have always been stressful for Santana. There is too much food all around her and it makes her anxious to see and smell and help cook, and she finds herself trying to get away with skipping meals and restricting herself more, exercising longer and harder than she had been. Being home and around her family more is stressful as well, and so when Brittany tells her she wants her to come over, Santana seizes this opportunity, grateful for it. She's happy above all else that Brittany does miss her, that Tina hasn't completely replaced her, and she does miss Brittany too. With Rachel gone she doesn't have to worry that Rachel will be mad at her or about balancing out her time either. If she wants to spend her whole holiday with Brittany, she totally can, and she has half a mind to. When she shows up at the girl's house, ringing the doorbell, she is already feeling a little better just being there.

Sitting in the kitchen on the counter, Brittany waited on Santana to arrive… she was also waiting on her food in the oven to be finished, but mostly she was waiting for Santana. She was so excited that her best friend would be coming over soon, especially since now she had Tina to spend time with and Santana and Rachel it seemed like the two never got best friend time… at least it didn't seem like it to Brittany. Before Santana got Rachel, the two were inseparable, not so much anymore, but the time they did get to spend together was even more special because of that.

Brittany was beginning to get impatient, she tapped her fingers on her legs, she felt like she'd been waiting forever. When the bell finally did ring, Brittany jumped off the counter and ran to the front door, nearly tripping over the rug by the door; she was so giddy she could hardly contain herself. She swung the door open and gave Santana the biggest smile ever. "Hey, Sanny!" She stepped to the side so the girl could walk into the house.

Santana grinned as she saw Brittany's reaction, how excited she was to see her. It was reassuring that her best friend still would want to see her this badly and get so happy that she was coming, that she would still feel like something was missing when Santana wasn't there. Coming inside the house, she shut the door behind her and then pulled Brittany into a long, tight hug, breathing in deeply before stepping back.

"I did miss you. I'm coming over every day until New Year. Every single day even if I have to sneak out of the house. Okay?"

Brittany was a bit taken back by the hug, but she wrapped her arms around Santana as a soft giggle escaped her lips. When Santana stepped back, Brittany tilted her head, still smiling, not knowing what exactly had gotten into Santana- not that she was complaining she loved Santana's hugs. She nodded as Santana spoke.

"Oh, Santana I'd love that!" She didn't ask if she still would even if Tina was there, but she figured if she didn't ask she'd forget that Tina more often than not was at Brittany's. She was hoping maybe she'd forgotten that small fact and would still come. "But what about after New Year? Then what?" She was pretty sure she knew that answer, she'd be going back to being with Rachel every day again.

Santana has in fact forgotten the Tina factor, so she continue to smile as she slips her hand into Brittany's, walking with her into the living room. She squeezes her hand lightly and swings it back and forth as she walks.

At Brittany's question, she looks over at her, frowning slightly as she thinks this over. She doesn't know the answer to the question yet, because it's true that Rachel does complicate things. It doesn't seem fair to promise one way or the other, to either of them.

"I'll try. We can share, right?"

"That's not sharing." Brittany looked over to Santana. "That's like having custody of you. Rachel gets you at these times and I get you at those times… I don't wanna do that, I don't want to have set times with you. I want you to come over when you want to. Before Rachel we didn't have to set up times, you just came over whenever you wanted- I want that again."

Brittany felt like she was maybe coming off a little rude, but she couldn't help it. Brittany usually sucked it up, she understood that Rachel made Santana happy so she hardly ever complained that Rachel was taking up so much of Santana's time… unlike Santana who constantly complained about Tina. She felt awful, she was being selfish, she didn't want to share her best friend, the same way Santana didn't want to share her. Santana was her best friend and no one else's.

Santana frowned, looking away from Brittany briefly as she tries to think through what the girl is saying. She doesn't really know what to say herself to that. It's true that what she proposed does sound like a divorced parent arrangement, but she can't think of anything more fair than that.

"I know," she admitted, sighing. "I want that too, Britt. I don't know how though. Because I want to be with BOTH of you all the time. And that can't happen and I don't know how to do it. I want to see you every single day and be all alone with you and not share you with anyone, but I want that with her too. I don't know how to do it though….can you think of a way that's better?"

Whatever she ends up with, she knows perfectly well Rachel won't be happy and probably Brittany won't either, but Brittany's right. She needs to spend more time with her, and she misses her. She's in love with Rachel, but loves Brittany too…it's all so complicated and she hates that whatever she chooses, inevitably someone will be upset.

"I told you before and I'll tell you again, you have to spend time with your girlfriend, you have to give her the attention she needs- which is a lot more than normal people- but you just can't forget about me either, because I've been your friend longer than she has. I've got to do the same though." Brittany laid her head on Santana's shoulder. "I've neglected you just as much as you have me."

Brittany wished that things could go back to the way they were, but she was also happy where she was at. She just wanted their friendship above all to go back to normal, since Rachel had come into the picture, everything between them got screwed up… one of the main reasons she disliked Rachel.

"I guess whenever we're both free we can hang out. We've also got cheerleading and glee club where we can try to hang out with each other as much as we can."

Figuring out when they were going to have best friend time was a lot more complicated than Brittany thought it would be.

Did Rachel need more attention than normal people? Santana wasn't sure. She knew that she herself needed attention, and a lot of it, but did she need more than normal people too?

"Do I need more attention than normal people?" she risks asking Brittany; only Brittany or Rachel would ever hear her wonder something like that aloud. "Because…I never want to share anyone. Is that normal?"

She feels renewed guilt stir in her chest as Brittany continues to talk. Does Brittany feel like Santana's forgotten her? Neglected her? She wouldn't say it if she didn't, would she?

She wrapped her arms around her, fingering Brittany's hair as she says with as much genuineness as she can, almost fierce, "I'm going to hang out with you more, way more, I promise. I never forgot you. I'm sorry."

Brittany furrowed her eyebrows as she thought about it for a moment. She didn't think Santana was too needy of attention… at least it didn't seem like it when you compared her to Rachel.

"I don't really know. I mean, you like attention- who doesn't though? But you definitely don't need as much attention as Rachel does." No one needed as much attention as Rachel did. Not wanting to share people was not normal, but she felt the same way. "It's totally normal to feel a little jealous."

Brittany sighed as Santana began playing with her hair, smiling when she spoke. "I know you never forgot me, I'm pretty hard to forget. But I'm really happy we're going to get more time together. I've missed being with you all the time." Santana promising to hang out with her more made a good week even better.

Santana still isn't sure though, about the attention. She loves attention, and in fact will go to extremes to make sure she gets it, even if negatively. She doesn't know if this is normal, and she's pretty sure she isn't any better than Rachel as far as how much attention she wants or needs. After all, it wasn't Rachel's parent who had had to watch her after eating every meal, wasn't that needing too much attention too?

She continues to mess with Brittany's hair, twining blonde strands around her fingers before starting to braid it. "I really miss you too. Britt…do I really make you feel like I'm neglecting you? Because you know you can call me or talk to me any time. Any time you want to see me, any time you need me, just tell me. I'll come. That's what friends do."

Brittany lifted her head up off of Santana's shoulder, sitting up straight again. "I don't know, maybe sometimes I do. It's totally okay though, you have your reasons and when I feel like that I don't really try calling you or anything, so in a way it's kind of my fault." She shrugged her shoulders before bringing her legs up to her chest.

Brittany also had Tina- that was another reason she didn't call her when she felt that Santana was neglecting her. The presence of Tina made her feel better and wanted; Tina made her sadness fade away just from seeing her smile. Neither girl knew that Tina saved Brittany from a lot of sad nights. There was no way Brittany would ever tell that to Santana though, she already felt like Tina was replacing her and hated her because of it, so she kept her mouth shut.

Santana's eyebrows knit, and she is frowning deeply as she regards Brittany, very bothered by her responses. When Brittany pulls away from her and pulls her legs up to her chest, she takes this as her trying to physically separate from her because she's so upset or bothered that she can't stand to touch her any longer, and she bites her lip, watching her, but not trying to touch her if Brittany doesn't want her to.

Brittany's comment about feeling neglected and being too sad to bother Santana with it ups her guilt by about sixfold, and she continues to chew on her lip, growing increasingly upset by what she's hearing.

"Brittany, you have to call me, you have to tell me! I don't want you to be sad all the time and not tell me! I don't want you to feel like I forgot you or I don't care anymore, why didn't you ever tell me this? You have to know that's not true…don't you? It isn't true. You're my best friend, forever. Always. No matter what. How can you not tell me when something's wrong so I can help you?"

Brittany hugged her legs tighter as she swallowed back the lump in her throat, she didn't mean to upset Santana, she was just telling her the truth, like she wanted. She knew that she should have told Santana how she was feeling long before, but Brittany didn't want to be a bother, she thought she'd be interfering in whatever Santana had planned in her day just because of a little sadness. She didn't want to do that.

"I just…" Brittany sighed heavily leaning her head on her knees for a second, then looking back up at Santana. "I never said anything about it because I already cause so many problems for you with Rachel and I don't even do anything. I know how much you like her, Santana, so imagine if I actually did something and you had to leave her side for an evening because I was feeling a little sad, you two would probably break up. I don't want to be the reasoning behind that let it be something else, I don't want to ruin things for you then you wind up hating me. I'm not risking that."

Santana is still frowning deeply as Brittany speaks, upset, guilty, and worried over what the girl is telling her. She wonders if she has made herself the focus of such much concern for others that she hasn't bothered to notice they should have her concern…she had done that with Rachel, and now it seems like she had overlooked Brittany too. She was a terrible friend and girlfriend. How could she not have realized this?

"Brittany…you don't cause problems. You didn't do anything. You and Rachel, you just have to work things out or avoid each other or something…like me and Tina, right? You didn't do anything. I want you to tell me when you need me, okay? Promise me. I've made you be there for me when I needed before, I want to do the same for you."

She slides her arm around Brittany's shoulders as she goes on, insistent, "We wouldn't break up. She would understand. She would. You won't ruin anything. I want to help you if you need it, just like you've helped me. I could NEVER hate you. Stop even thinking that."

Brittany sat there for a moment, not saying anything and wondering why she didn't just keep her mouth shut about this, had she done that they'd be doing something much more fun than this. "No, you told me before that Rachel was jealous and that was causing problems so I am causing problems in your relationship without even doing anything." She sighed. "Does it upset you that Rachel and I aren't friends? Like, don't you want your best friend and your girlfriend to be civil, sort of like how I wish you and Tina could be."

"I don't know, Santana, Rachel doesn't really seem like one to be understanding when I randomly call you saying I want you to come over.." She leaned back into Santana. "I haven't helped you with anything… ever, so I don't really see why you would want to help me at all." Brittany let go of her legs, letting them hang off the sofa again.

"No you aren't," Santana insisted, though she isn't entirely sure this is true. "You aren't. Don't worry about it. You are not."

She hesitates when Brittany asks her if it upsets her that she and Rachel aren't friends, because the truth is it does bother her. She doesn't want to say that, but eventually she says, "It would be cool if you got along better…I mean…I'd like it. But you don't HAVE to."

She snuggled in a little closer to Brittany when the girl leaned into her, leaning her head against hers as she tried to think through how to respond. She can see Brittany's point, but she doesn't want to acknowledge it.

"She'll understand. I go over all the time when she needs me so she should understand that sometimes you need me too. I don't want you not to say stuff when something's wrong, that really makes me feel bad, Brittany. Please don't anymore, okay? Because you have helped me. You took care of me when I was sick and cuddled me even though I was whining, and you hug me when I'm sad and you make me feel better. You do that all the time. Of course I'd want to help you even if you never did help me, because you are my best friend. That's what I'm supposed to do."

Brittany ignored Santana telling her how she didn't cause problems for her, she completely disagreed with Santana. She knew that she caused problems for the two and majority of the time she didn't even know how she did it when she hardly hung out with Santana outside of school.

"I don't understand how you can be so cool about it. Me, I want you and Tina to become super best friends that way the three of us can do stuff together without me worrying that a huge fight is going to break out. But, I know more than likely that'll never happen, at least the you two not becoming best friends part." She hated that more than anything.

"I don't know, I just don't see her being that thrilled. I mean, I want you to come and make me feel better all the time, I just don't want to start stuff." Brittany knew all that stuff was practically nothing compared to what other people do to help their best friends. "I'm sure I could've helped you more. Maybe, I can call you every once in a while when I feel that way and you can do the same. If you ever think I'm forgetting about you, you call me too."

Super best friends with Tina? Ha. It took all Santana's will not to scrunch up her face at that, rejecting it, but instead she tried to smile as she continued to cuddle up to Brittany.

"Don't worry about it, okay? If you need me, I want to help. I'm your friend. Just like if I need you I"ll tell you, okay? I know I haven't always done that before because it's really hard but we should be doing that. You help me every time I ask, Britt. You even helped me with Rachel. Because when I was being so mean to her you said she was right, remember?"

"Okay." Brittany nodded. She knew that she would still continue to worry about it, but she didn't want Santana to tell her to stop worrying anymore. She couldn't help it. "I only helped you with that because she makes you happy and I didn't want you to screw things up with her then be sad all the time."

Brittany was glad she and Santana were able to talk like this, she was glad to get all of this off her chest. Maybe it would make her and Santana close again. Talking to her always made her feel better, she didn't know why she'd waited this long to tell her how she felt, she knew Santana would be understanding.

"She does make me happy," Santana confirmed, nodding, even as she continued to wind her arms around Brittany's waist and curl into her side. "She helps me a lot, and I really love her. But I love you too. You're my best friend, I've loved you as long as I've known you, and I'm always gonna, okay? So talk to me. Please tell me stuff. I want to know and I want to help."

"I'm glad she does. I'm happy that you have her, you deserve to have at least one good thing in your life, especially after everything you've been through these past few months." Brittany let out a heavy breath. "You're my best friend too and no matter what you think that role is always going to be yours. No one else is ever going to replace you. I promise from now on I'll let you know everything whether it be I'm feeling neglected or just random things from my day, even if you don't want to hear it." Brittany chuckled as she looked at Santana.

"You're a good thing in my life too, Britt-Britt," Santana told her, twirling a finger in Brittany's hair and resting her head on her shoulder. "You always have been."

She smiles slightly when Brittany assures her she'll always be her best friend, even as she worries to herself this isn't true. "Okay…good. I do want to hear it. I wanna hear everything about you, I want to know everything. Okay?"

Except about Tina. She's pretty sure she'd rather not know about that.

"Excuse you." Brittany cleared her throat. "I think you meant to say I'm the best thing and no one better than me will ever come into your life." She flashed a big and cheesy smile to Santana.

"I want to hear how you feel and about what goes on in your life too, even if it means I have to listen to you go on about Rachel." Even though she really didn't want to, she'd suffer through it for her. "You have to promise me, because I miss just sitting and talking to you about everything. Oh and the cuddling, I miss the cuddling too."

Santana grinned back at her, ruffling her hair, but felt a pinch of guilt as Brittany said this and doesn't actually say this out loud. She would feel bad even in fun saying that no one better than Brittany would ever come into her life, because how would Rachel feel if she ever knew somehow?

She is relieved when Brittany says she wants to hear everything about her and her life, and grins again when she says she misses talking to her- and cuddling her. Nuzzling her cheek into Brittany's shoulder, she continues to hug up to her, then stretches her legs across her lap, still leaned into her.

"Got it." She cuddles her for a few more moments before adding in a playful tone, "And I'm the best cuddler in your life and no one better than me will ever cuddle you." This is almost a challenge.

88

Private messages

Santana: How's vacation? I miss you.

Rachel: It's okay. I miss you too.

Santana: you ok?

Rachel: Yes, I'm alright. A little down, but alright. How are you?

Santana: Why are you?

Rachel: Why am I what?

Santana: Down. I thought you were in therapy and everything. And you're on VACATION.

Rachel: I am, yes. But I still have low days, you know? It just sort of happens.

Santana: Why? What are you thinking about?

Rachel: Um… Nothing..? Well, no, I'm thinking about a lot of things. Just the usual, though. Glee club, homework, trying to stay caught up with home work, etc, etc. You, obviously. But I always think about you, so…

Santana: that stuff usually makes you go manic and productive, not let's lay down and mope.

Santana: Wait, you're thinking of me and you're feeling down?

Rachel: No, Tana. I'm not mopey, and you don't make me feel down. I'm just… tired. That's all. I'm just trying to figure things out, I suppose. I'm trying to smile and go back to being normal, but I suppose it isn't that easy.

Santana: What are you trying to figure out?

Rachel: Like, I said; how to be normal again. To not feel needy. Get my inspiration back… I miss the old me, even if no one else does…

Santana: I miss the old you. I want you to be happy. Isn't there something I can do to make you happy?

Rachel: Thank you…I don't know. You're already doing so much. You're wonderful. I'm just… weird. It's not about…I AM happy with you. And I'm happy with my dads, and sometimes I'm even happy at Glee club. And then sometimes I just feel like… This will sound stupid, but sometimes I feel like everyone else is living in color and I'm stuck in black and white. And I can't shake it off.

Santana: Well you do wear a lot of black and white. Don't you get colorful when you sing? Or when you're with me?

Rachel: Sometimes, yes. A lot of the time. I still feel like there's something wrong with me, but I feel warm, and safe when with you. I don't know how I feel when I sing anymore. …I haven't actually sang for awhile, now that I think about it.

Santana: Sing for me then. Please?

Rachel: Santana…Um… Tomorrow?

Santana: But I want you to sing for me now. You're sad now.

Rachel: If I sang now it would just be sad… I don't want you to be sad, too, Santana.

Santana: No because singing is colors and happy and Rachel beaming. So sing. Too late because if you can't even sing that's pretty damn sad.

Rachel: How would I even sing, Santana? I'm hours away.

Santana: Telephone. Skype. Video chat.

·**  
****Santana:***dials*·

**Rachel:**H-hi. Um. Okay. You'll have to excuse my lack of preparation, and um, music. So... acapella it is, I suppose. Okay. H-here it goes.[a few beats later]·

**Rachel:**Wakin' up this morning, saw the sun come through myblinds, and I looked up on the porch and saw, an owl shrieking by. And never could I have imagined, such a place like this. And you're lying next to me... I wanna wake you with a all those crazy things about you, that I do adore, are the little things that keep me... coming back for more...[humming]And it feels, like, love, and it feels, so, good... I wanna feel like the roarin' thunder, wanna be the heaven that your sky is under- Oh, I say, you say, love...All that I need, baby it's true... The sand on my feet and you...·

**Santana:**(listening, smiling softly) Go on.

**Rachel: **I will go wherever you go, Take me where you lead, Lead me where you want...My heart doesn't knowAnything but what you say,You're the one for me,You make me feel complete.I can silent read your whisper,And my lips still feel your touch, And I'm oh so glad to be here, Oh so glad to be here...[finishes singing a few minutes later, swallows thickly]

·**Rachel:**Th-thank you... For listening...

**S:**I love you, baby. You sound beautiful.

**Rachel: **I love you, too. I'll try singing more. I miss it...

**Santana:**Yeah, you need to. Sing me something else.·**  
Rachel:**Okay... But um, don't laugh.· [a few seconds later]·

**Rachel:**Take off all the make-up girl, shine your light, show the world... Don't be shy, don't be scared, you don't have to hide under there... Let's throw away all the magazines, turn off the static on the TV, wish you could see yourself the way I do...· Nobody ever told you... Nobody ever told you...· You shine like a diamond, glitter like gold, and you need to know what nobody ever told you..· Yeah... La-la-la-la-la...·

**Santana:**(listening, smothering a laugh in her hand) Is that for me? 'cause it sounds like you, Miss Diamond Lady.**  
Rachel:***cuts off* Fine... then I just won't sing anymore tonight...

**Santana:**Rachel...come on. It's cute. It's you. It's a compliment. You're my diamond...right?**  
Rachel:**I... That's really sweet of you... *blushing* But it's really late now... I should try and get to bed. I'll see you soon, right?

**Santana**: Right. Night, diamond. Love you.


	50. Chapter 50

Facebook status

Santana: This damn wind makes my hair a wreck, there is like no point in spending an hour fixing it in the ONE morning I don't have to put it in a ponytail this week, dammit

Brittany: Winter is beautiful, I love it, I think I'll be going to a college somewhere up north so it'll snow all year round. Santana, I'm sure your hair looked fine, it always looks good, even up in a ponytail.

Santana: Nooo you can't do that. It does not, look at it. It's all tangled and staticky.

Brittany: And why can't I? I doubt that, is it possible that you're being a little dramatic?

Santana: Because I don't want you to move far away from me and never see me again. And no. I am not. At all. Look at it!

Brittany: I'll still see you, you can always come visit me and I'll visit you and there's Skype! We'll never miss each other. If you think it's that bad, come to my house, I'll fix it up really pretty, but you have to avoid looking at me.

Santana: That's not the same :( I will too miss you. A lot. Every day. Fuck… no you can't. Sorry. Nope.…why can't I look at you? What happened? Who do I have to kill?

Brittany: You can always move with me. Right after graduation we can move somewhere totally amazing and I would be willing to rule out snow.. we could possibly go somewhere that has a beach. Unless of course you're planning on going wherever Rachel is going.

Brittany: No one, you don't have to kill anyone. I've got a busted and swollen lip, some guy in dance class hit me- on accident. That's why I'm not going to school, I don't want people to see me all gross.

Santana:….oooooh beach.

Santana:….who did it. Time to kill.

Brittany: Does that mean you'll move with me?

Brittany: Just a random dude in my dance class, he did it on accident though which means you can't kill him.

PMs (switching to)

Santana: I don't know…I don't want people gone. And I don't know what I want to do. So you should all stay around until I figure it out and then you should go with me. Yep. Sounds like a plan.

Santana: No it doesn't. He hurt you, he's dead

Brittany: You only have a year to figure it out.. And I know you, right after graduation the two of you are going to dash off to New York because you don't want to be without Rachel. I don't want to go to New York so we're pretty much back where we started.

Brittany: You can't kill him if I don't tell you who he is. There are a ton of guys in my dance class.

Santana: I didn't say I'd do that. I don't want to be without you either. Why can't you both just sit your asses here until I'm ready, that sounds like a really awesome plan to me.

Santana: Then I'll kill them all to cover bases.

Brittany: You didn't have to say it, we all know it's what's going to happen. Because I don't want to..

Brittany: No, don't.

Santana: …but…I want it.

Santana: Yep.

Brittany: Sorry.

Brittany: You can't do that, Santana, I might not be allowed back to class again.

Santana: You're being really mean, Brittany.

Brittany: Why do you think I'm being mean?

Santana: Because. You won't let me kill anyone and you're moving away from me and you wont' even stay here and not grow up. You're the one who likes crayons and unicorns and now you're gonna grow up on me.

Brittany: Sorry I don't want you to go to prison. Despite what you obviously think, I'm not a little kid. I'm 17 and ready to get out of Lima as soon as I possibly can so I'm not stuck here for the rest of my life.

Santana: I"m not going to PRISON, I didn't do anything. I'm 17 too and I don't want this shit!

Brittany: I'm saying if you did something, I'm keeping you from doing it. Why are you getting so mad at me?! I haven't done anything!

Santana: I'm just trying to protect you and you won't let me. I'm just trying to stay with you and you won't let me. Everyone is leaving and everyone is going somewhere else and you're all just going to go off your merry ways and leave me behind without looking back for one second, everyone can't wait to go!

Brittany: It was an accident, he didn't do it on purpose, you're just blowing it up. I told you, you can move with me, I wouldn't have a problem with it. I won't be leaving you, I'll be moving on from Lima. I don't understand why you're freaking out over something that's going to happen a year from now.

Santana: I'm not blowing anything up, he hurt you and you're protecting him when it's my job to protect you and now you just protect your own self so what is THAT, I don't even have a job anymore! And you SAID you are, you said you're leaving Lima and you'll live with Tina so how can I live with you, and Rachel won't be at the beach, so everyone will be gone and there's only one of me, and I don't know what I want to do or where to go and IT'S HAPPENING RIGHT NOW ALREADY!

Brittany: I still need you, I just don't need you for this situation because I forgave him for _accidentally_ hitting me. Tina graduates _2 years_ from now, that means that whole year before she graduates you get to be with me. You still have time to figure out what you want.

Santana: You don't need me ever for anything, you have Tina and you just don't ever need me, ever…I don't have any time, and I don't know where to go or what to do and everyone will be ahead of me and I can't be everywhere at once…

Brittany: I do need you, you're still my very best friend. I still need you when people call me stupid or when people laugh at things I say, I love Tina but there's no way she'd get away with half the stuff you do. It's not really like you need me either… You do have time, just because you haven't figured out what you want right now doesn't mean you won't have it figured out in a month.

Santana: I do I do. I need you. I don't want anything to change, nothing can change.

Santana: Brittany I'm scared

Brittany: Things change every single day and you don't freak out about that.

Brittany: Why? Like really explain it to me, why are you scared all of a sudden?

Santana: No they don't, they do not. Not like this, they DON'T.

Santana: I don't know I"m losing you and I'm gonna lose Rachel and I don't know what to do with my life and she needs me now because she's a loser in Lima but she won't when she's famous in Broadway and you won't either because you're so awesome you won't need me to protect you because everyone will love you so you'll both have your awesome lives and I don't even know what to do with my life, I don't want to do ANYTHING that I can think of and I'm gonna end up just by myself and I've never had that, I don't want to grow up anymore, I'm already fucking grown up enough, why can't we just stop right here forever because…just stop everything, now

Brittany: Maybe not quite this extreme, but things do change all the time.

Brittany: You're not losing me or Rachel or anyone else. When Rachel's on Broadway she's going to still need you, even if she becomes super-diva and has 80 people doing stuff for her she's still going to need you because you're Santana. I'm sure wherever I go I'm going to hear the same dumb blonde jokes or hear people whispering about how dumb I am just like here in Lima, so I'm still going to need my best friend/bodyguard. You're so talented you could pretty much do whatever you wanted you could sing, act or dance or who knows maybe even become Sue 2.0, just don't do anything with little kids. I wish time would stop too, but until I figure out how to build a time-machine we're kind of screwed.

Santana: I'm…I'm just scared Brittany. I'm sorry. I'm just scared.

Brittany: So am I and everyone else. Everything will be okay though, I pinky-promise.

Santana: I want to throw up.

Brittany: Just breathe, Sanny. It's going to be fine, you'll figure out what you want.

Santana: I might not though.

Brittany: You will. What is something that you absolutely love doing?

Santana: sex but i can't be a hooker.

Brittany: If that's what you want to do… go for it. But, I would suggest going for the second thing you love doing.

Santana: I…I love singing. And dancing. But come on, like I"m really getting a career doing that.

88

PMS

Santana: I have decided that even though I hate this school and this town and Lima and Ohio and everything about it I still don't want to leave or graduate and no one else can either. So join me in my decision not to grow up and move on.

Rachel: Santana… I AM going to New York when we graduate… You know that's always been my dream. And honestly? I can't stand this town. It's a terrible, terrible place that sucks you in and never wants you to 're better than this place. And it's okay to be afraid, but don't let it cripple you. No when you have so, so much potential and talent for so many different

Santana: I'm not CRIPPLED. Do you see me hobbling? But I'm also not gonna just scatter far and wide and lose the only shit I actually have. ·**  
**Rachel**:**Santana... Are you alright? Do you want me to come over?

Santana:I don't want things to change.  
Rachel**:**Change can be really good you changing is the only reason we got together, remember? And well, I'm really glad it happened.

Santana:It can stop. It can stop right now.·

Rachel**:**I'm coming over. Is your mother home? It honestly sounds like you're freaking out and could have a panic attack and I'm really worried.

Santana**:**Everything's going to change!

Santana**:**I just got fucking used to it and it's going to change and nothing will be the same!**  
**Rachel:And that's okay sweetie! It is! I promise things are going to be okay.

Rachel**:**I'll be there in 15, okay? I'm leaving right now.

Santana**:**no they will not no they won't

Santana**:**less than 2 years and it's all over it will NOT**  
**Rachel**:**Please breathe, sweetie. Just take a few deep breaths.

Santana**:**(stops answering the phone for a while)

Santana**:**I don't know what to do**  
**Rachel:Breathe first, okay? Lay down, if you want to, curl up in your bed, hug the stuffed kitten I gave you if you want to do that as well, and I'll be over very soon. We can talk, okay? Things are going to okay. I'll help you any way I can. I promise.

Santana**:**ok...ok.

88  
Rachel had explained to her fathers as much as she could in as little time possible, whilst getting dressed for the cold weather, and headed out immediately. She hadn't even let her car warm up, which was unheard for her. But it was clear that Santana needed her, and, well, maybe Rachel needed Santana, too. If only because all this sudden talk of changes and the future had her needed a little reassurance of her own.

The drive was quick, her thoughts racing, and as she parked her car on the street, all but ran up to the door, and knocked, she was trying to get her thoughts in could she say? She had always had her future more or less planned out, even all the possible things that could go wrong…Rachel figured, really, all she could do for Santana was be there, and try her best to remind the girl of all the amazing things she _had _accomplished. Everything that, yes, had changed, but how she had become so much stronger, even healthier, for it…

The door opened then, revealing Maribel Lopez, looking at her in confusion , and Rachel tried regaining her composure.

"I- I apologize for the suddenness and the late time of evening, ma'am. But um- Santana is sort of freaking out about the future and I'm worried. Could I speak to her? I won't stay over, if I'm not allowed, but I do have my fathers' permission to do so, just in case," rambled Rachel anxiously, hands wringing together with nerves.

shehad a good relationship with the older Lopez woman, but she knew that this was breaking one of the standard rules.

Maribel had in fact thought that Santana had gone to bed. The lights were off under the door of her room, and she had been quiet most of the evening; they had already finished the evening meal and check in ritual a few hours ago, and she had intended to ease the door open to see that she was sleeping and then head to bed herself. Therefore Rachel showing up at the door and telling her that this isn't the case, that in fact something is apparently wrong, is something of a surprise, and she frowns, concerned. Had this been Santana at the door she would have suspected manipulation, but Rachel was not the type and appeared genuinely anxious, so she nodded, backing up to let her in.

"Yes, come in…you say she is freaking out? Is she all right? She has not…" she paused, not wanting to accuse Santana aloud of anything, but looking at Rachel meaningfully to get the message across. She isn't sure whether she is intending to imply a question of whether Santana is purging or doing something else to harm herself, specifically, but she leaves the question open for Rachel to respond to.

Rachel stepped in, closing the door behind her quietly and biting her lip. She knew honesty was the best policy, but… trust between her and Santana was still shaky at times…

As she began to take off her layers, Rachel decided that she didn't know enough to hide anything.

"She's terrified about the future. That's really all I know at this point. Something about having no direction and everyone leaving her," Rachel replied, hanging up her two coats, three scarves, and layered mittens, then setting her boots onto the placemat by the other shoes.

"I'll tell you more when I can," she promised, already making her way to the stairs, then pausing and saying, "But, preferably, I hope I can persuade her to talk to you when all is said and done. Thank you so much, ma'am."

With that, she headed to Santana's entering, Rachel closed the door softly behind her, choosing to keep the lights off, though that meant she couldn't really see Santana…

"Santana?" she whispered. "I'm here…"

Maribel nodded, letting Rachel move on without her towards Santana's room, but she was still thinking about her words, and rather than head towards her own bedroom, she remained awake in the living room, waiting up. She doubts that her daughter is going to seek her out, with Rachel now here, but she is making herself available in case she will.

In her bedroom Santana is curled up in a ball around the stuffed cat on her bed, exactly as Rachel had suggested, the lights off, except the faint glow of her cell phone next to her hand from her texts back and forth to Brittany. Her eyes are half shut, her breathing audible and a little uneven, but she is no longer on the verge of a full on panic attack. She lifts her head slightly when Rachel speaks, but doesn't sit up. There are tearstains on her cheeks but she is not currently crying.

"You didn't have to come," she mutters, even though she had wanted nothing else. She takes a deep breath, releases it with bare self control. "Hi."

Rachel tip toes her way through the mess that is Santana's room, moving to the bed and under the covers, going behind Santana and wrapping her arms around the taller girl. It's not the usual position, but Rachel isn't adverse to doing the holding every so often. Especially considering how often Santana has held her…

"Hi," she whispered back softly, scooting as close to Santana as she can get. "And yes, I did have to come… The number of nights you've held me when I've been crying or terrified from a nightmare is… innumerable. I'm here for you as much as you're always there for me."

Leaning over, Rachel managed to kiss Santana's cheek, then leaned back, molding herself to her girlfriend's back once more. "Want to talk about?" she asked. "I promise not to interrupt."

As Rachel wraps her arms around her, pulling Santana in against her chest, a shiver runs through her, and she feels her throat choke up all over again as tears press hard against her eyes. For a few moments Santana is silent, just keeping this back, making sure that she will not give in too intently to the strong emotions still peaking through her in waves, and when she thinks she's a little more controlled, she starts to talk. Slowly and softly at first, but increasingly quickly in intensity, emotion, and volume.

"Everything's changing. Everything already did change and it keeps changing and it won't ever stop, all the rest of our lives it will never stop. It's not even senior year and already I lost all these roles, I'm not the skinniest girl and I'm too nice to you to be the bitch girl or the badass girl and I'm not my abuela's granddaughter and I'm not gonna give anyone a son in law and I'm not gonna be a cheerleader forever and I'm not gonna be in Glee club or dance classes forever, and I'm not Brittany's protector, she doesn't even need me anymore. She can stand up for her own self and she has Tina, and she's going to go off to the beach and you're going off to New York and I don't know where to go or what to do-"

Her breathing is quickening by now, as she is visibly starting to work herself up again, and she stops to take deep breaths again, curling her legs up tighter against her chest. "Everyone knows what they want and what they're doing and who they want to be except me and I don't know but everything that I am is already changing and I don't know how it's gonna all turn out, and whoever I am I can't be everywhere and with everyone at once."

As Rachel felt Santana start to breath unevenly again, she slowly got the girl to turn over, pressing their foreheads together, and brought Santana's hand to her sternum.

"Santana— Santana, deep breaths, okay? Just breathe, in and out, just like I am."

She took several long, deep breaths, slowly, quietly speaking to and encouraging her girlfriend to do the waited until she was positive the girl was level with her again, and a bit more calm, before cupping her cheek, and speaking softly.

"No one always knows what they want, Santana. And honestly? That's okay. Just like it's okay to be scared of the future…"

Rachel kissed Santana's nose, then kept going."But you? You have so, so much talent and intelligence, love… And so much to give, so much potential… You're the bravest person I know, Santana Lopez. Because sometimes you do get scared, and sometimes you _do _care about what everyone thinks. Just like I do. But you've accomplished, _so much _this last year…"

Rachel offered the girl a small, reassuring smile. "Remember, all those months ago, at the very beginning of school and the very first Glee rehearsal? You caught me looking at you when we were getting dressed. You confronted me, then blackmailed me."

The younger girl actually laughed a little. "And somehow, from all of that, through all the drama, and the fear, and the shared anger, here we are. Here _you _are. You're getting healthier everyday, and you're _alive _Santana Lopez. You're alive, stubbornly so. Even though you get so scared of living, you stay alive… You came out this year, faced your parents, AND your grandmother. You faced one of the most terrifying women you know, who you always went on and on about wanting to be like, about respecting her so much. You stood up to her, and you've been doing it every day… You opened up to your mother, your grades have been going up and up, AND you've been tutoring me in Spanish and Math. Santana, you're _brilliant_. In your own way. And so, so beautiful on the inside and out. You are so much _more_then Brittany's protector, or my girlfriend, or the head bitch in charge at school. Your more than a cheerleader, more than just the scared girl with 'an eating thing'. You're _you_. And maybe you aren't positive who that is yet… And that's okay, too. You'll get there, I promise. And, in the mean time, I'll be with you, your parents will be with you, MY parents, Brittany… We'll support you, no matter what you want to try in life, or decide to do. I believe in you."

For a moment, Rachel was taken back to sophomore year, at Sectionals when she said "I believe you" to Santana when the rest of the Glee Club was ready to crucify her. Rachel hadn't been sure why she spoke up then, other than she had been telling them the truth; she believed Santana had cared about Glee club. Just like, right now, she believed Santana would find a way.

Santana closed her eyes briefly as Rachel took her hand and pressed it against her heart, swallowing hard as she focused on Rachel's heartbeat, on taking breaths in and out against her hand. She breathed in Rachel's scent, blindly grasping for her hand and holding it tightly until she can feel herself starting to calm down again. She keeps her eyes closed as Rachel continues to talk to her, encouraging her, reminding her, and she lets herself think back, to back in August, back when she first really started to talk with and bully Rachel over her discovery. It seems so long ago, so inconceivable that she could have been so terrible to her, that she could have been so miserable and scared and angry. She lets herself think through and really remember each small step towards change she had made, and as Rachel continues to assure her, a few tears slip down her cheeks from beneath her closed eyes. Taking another deep breath, she opens her eyes and looks back at her, still squeezing her hand.

"I just get…it seems so hard and I don't know what will happen and I just get…scared."

Rachel nodded slowly, returning Santana's hold on her hand just as firmly.

"Do you want to know a secret?" she asked, tangling her legs with the other girl's. She let out a slow breath, then spoke, "…I get scared, too… I get scared that I won't make it. That I won't get into the school I want… I get scared that, at the end of the day, I'll always be this short, big-nosed little girl with too big of dreams and not enough talent."

It was something she never admitted to anyone but her fathers. Generally, Rachel couldn't afford to admit such a thing. There were too many people in Lima, especially the high school, waiting for her to crack a little too much, or to fail. Over-confidence and stubbornness were Rachel Berry's greatest Santana came along, that is.

"You make me less afraid. You make me feel like I can actually be a real star, Santana. So, add that to your list of amazing, okay? Santana Lopez; most incredibly girlfriend Rachel Berry could ever dream of having."

She smiled a bit more. "We can be scared together sometimes, okay? Then we just… hold hands, and keep moving forward. We can be brave together, too."

Santana looks into Rachel's eyes, somewhat incredulous. Although she has seen Rachel's insecurities like no one else and done what she could to soothe them away, she has never thought that she would be afraid of failure of her dreams. Hell, it had never crossed her mind that Rachel might not meet them.

"You'll make it," she told her quietly. "You are a star. You always have been, and it won't be long until everyone else sees it too."

"Thank you," whispered Rachel, letting out a shaky breath. "You'll make it, too, Santana. You're a star, too. In whatever you end up doing, you'll be absolutely amazing."

Slowly, Rachel got Santana to sit up, pushing her long hair behind her ears and carefully dabbing away the last remnants of the girl's tears.

"Your mother is really worried about you, love… I think, perhaps, you should go down and see her. You don't need to have any sort of talk tonight, but maybe a hug and some reassurance on both sides would be good. I know you aren't always happy with her… but she does love you, Santana. I can stay up here, if you'd like. Sleep over, if it's alright with you're mother, as well. But… Please go see her… For me, and for her. And also for you."

Santana frowned, mystified as to how her mother would be worried about her when she hasn't indicated that there's anything for her to worry about. It occurs to her that Rachel must have told her or had to explain why she was over so late, and she doesn't really like the thought. She still doesn't like for her mother to have more "ammo" to worry about her, but she's too tired to really fight Rachel or protest her having told her.

Sniffing one more time, pulling back from Rachel, she stands slowly, reluctant, and makes her way back towards the living room, looking for Maribel. Maribel is still sitting on the couch, the tv on but the sound turned very low, and she looks up when Santana appears in the doorway. She gives her daughter a soft smile, but Santana can see the concern in her expression and knows Rachel is right, her mother is worried.

Neither says anything. Instead Santana continues to move forward, stopping in front of her, and when Maribel reaches out a hand, taking hold of Santana's and gently squeezing it, Santana lowers herself slowly beside her. She takes a deep breath, avoiding her mother's eyes, and then curls into her side, feeling her mother's arm circle her shoulders, her free hand begin to stroke through her hair as Santana lets her head come to rest against her shoulder.

Still neither say anything even as Maribel's lips brush Santana's temple, and Santana closes her eyes, letting her mother hold and lightly stroke her hair without asking her to explain.

"Te amo," Maribel whispered after a minute, and Santana nods, mouthing the words back inaudibly, but her mother seemed to understand all the same.****


	51. Chapter 51

Texts

Santana: I had to make a lame bucket list in therapy. Wanna help me cross some of it off?

Brittany: Sure. What do you need help doing?

Santana: Hm. Rock climbing, hang gliding. Spend the night in the mall. Cosplay. Die my hair blonde.

Brittany: We live in Lima, the only things we'll probably be able to do is dye your hair or sleep in the mall. There can't be three blondes in the Unholy Trinity, so I say sleeping in the mall.

Santana: It wouldn't be like platinum, more like honey. Okay. In pajamas?

Brittany :The week you dye your hair, I'll dye mine. Just so there isn't any confusion. Well, unless you wanna be nude, I figured we would be in pajamas.

Santana: Is nude sleeping in the mall also an option?

Brittany: It can be. What if we get in trouble?

Santana: We totally won't. We'll wear all black like ninjas until the naked part kicks

Brittany: Then once we're naked, the cameras will see us. But, I'm totally up for a challenge When are we going to do this?

Santana: first we make the cameras go out or else we cover them up ninja style. uh tonight?

Brittany :How do you even make a camera go out? I just don't want us to be naked and on the news. Tonight sounds lovely.

Santana: I got it, Britt, don't worry. Okay let's do it. We'll be in the mall by eight, it closes at nine.

Santana: You know I'm kidding about the naked part, right?

88

After Brittany had run past Santana's house to pick the girl up for the night's events, they pulled into the parking lot at the mall and parked towards the back. Though she'd never admit it to Santana, she was rather nervous about sleeping in the mall. Sleeping in the mall was breaking the law; the two of them could get arrested for trespassing. If she got arrested, there was no way Brittany would ever see Santana ever again… or Tina… or anyone else for that matter. Her mom would ground her until the day she died.

She looked over at Santana and sighed. "So… Are we really going to do this?"

Deep down the blonde hoped that Santana would quickly respond with a 'no', but Santana was _not_ one to back out of things. She knew that Santana would say yes, they'd wonder around the mall for an hour, possibly buy something and then find somewhere in there to sleep. She continuously asked herself why she agreed to it.

Santana is rather excited. This had been one of the least interesting things to do on her bucket list, one of the ones that mattered least in the scheme of her life, but that didn't mean it wouldn't be fun to do. She had always been tempted to try to sleep on one of the "midget" beds in the department stores since she was a little kid, and she had only intensified her desire after reading a book about children who lived in a museum. Now she and Brittany were going to try it out, and she was anticipating it like a little kid.

She had deliberately chosen a purse that was oversized, able to carry her pajamas, toothbrush and hairbrush, and other accessories. As she walked across the parking lot with Brittany, she nodded impatiently, barely listening to her.

"Yeah, of course. This is gonna be so cool, Britt. We'll jump on the beds and play hide and go seek in the clothes racks and it will all totally be in the dark because if we turn on the lights people will see we're there, and the cameras can't see us in the dark. They're gonna come in tomorrow and go WHAT THE HELL when they see that the beds aren't made, this will be so sweet."

Taking Brittany's hand and swinging it like a little kid, she went on excitedly. "So what we'll do is we'll hide in either the dressing room, and put our feet up so they won't see us, or in one of the clothing racks. Then once they checked the mall and cleaned the bathroom and stuff and lock up, we'll come out and do whatever we want."

"Okay, but what if we get caught? What do we do then? Do we like, run away or do we just take it? I don't know what I'm doing here." Brittany turned her head to where she wasn't paying attention to where she was walking at all, her eyes locked on Santana. There was no way she was going to jail for a thing listed on a bucket list- she was too young and way too pretty.

Brittany looked down at their hands for a moment, how Santana was so calm about everything was beyond her. "You know an awful lot about staying in malls, Santana. How do I know you're not like living in malls all the time?" She jokingly asked. "But that's actually a pretty genius idea. I mean, I doubt they even check the dressing rooms; it's probably not first priority or anything."

"Um…if we get caught…we totally fell asleep," Santana declared, smirking as she thought this out. "We'll say…we were making out in the dressing rooms and we got tired and fell asleep…and then we woke up and we were locked in and our cells were dead so we figured, what the hell, might as well have fun. What are they gonna do, somehow prove we didn't?"

"But we're not gonna get caught," she assured her as they entered JC Penney's, lowering her voice. "This is gonna be awesome, promise."

"_Brilliant_." Brittany's smile grew as she hopped off the ground once. "And if we tell them that we were making out, it'd totally get us off the hook. You have a good mind, Santana Lopez." She used her free hand to tap her own temple, a smile still on her face

Brittany held out her pinky as soon as they stepped in the store. "You've got to pinky promise me. You have to promise that we're not going to get caught. And if we do and wind up going to prison, you will use that genius mind of yours and find a way to make some sort of explosion or something break me out of there."

Smiling, she took Brittany's pinky with hers, continuing to walk with it linked as she promised as the girl had asked. "Pinky promise we won't get caught, and if we do, I will totes get you off scott free. Come on, when have I ever gotten you in too much trouble?"

Surely Brittany has forgotten by now individual times.

"Well, they could if they found out we weren't really making out, but I think that'd probably be pretty hard for them to figure out." Brittany nodded her head. "Exactly what I was thinking! What person wouldn't be though?"

Brittany tightened her pinky around Santana's. "Okay, I believe you… but if it doesn't happen you better defend me in prison." Brittany bit her lip as she took a moment to think of a time Santana had gotten her in trouble. "Well, I can't think of anything off the top of my head, but I'm sure we've gotten in trouble a few times. Nothing we couldn't get out of though. So, I'm trusting you."

"So we're totally covered, no worries," Santana assures her. Swinging their hands again, pinkies locked, she heads towards the lingerie department. "We should probably spend lots of time here to back our story up."

As Brittany tells her she trusts her, she smiles genuinely, then wraps her arm around Brittany's waist, nuzzling her head into her shoulder. "I got your back, Britts. Always…hm do they have toys in this store? I think they have a Disney section now."

"I guess so." Brittany shrugged. "Probably, wanting to make out after trying on lingerie makes total sense… and, while we're here I could maybe buy something cute for me." She let her hands hit the clothes as they walked through.

Brittany smiled and let out a small giggle. "Oh, yeah I'm pretty sure they have toys. Why? Do you want some Disney toys for you room, Santana? It'll probably brighten your room up a bit" She put her arm around Santana.

Santana rolled her eyes at her, but is still smiling, the scowl she tries to give her fading fast. "Lame, Britt. For you. You like to cuddle with stuff when you sleep and the midget beds are tiny. I guess if we curl up we can still share though."

Arm around Brittany's waist, she begins to examine some of the bras still entwined with her loosely, fingering the first one she sees. "You think my room's not bright?"

"Do you want me to buy you something too? I'm just thinking you know, I'm going to be in a hotel with Tina on Valentine's Day, so I should have something cute." Brittany turned her head to look at Santana. "You just want an excuse to cuddle with me."

Brittany shrugged once again. "It's not that it's not bright, it's bright in the way that it expresses you… but it's black. Tina's room is brighter color than yours is."

"I need something for Rachel…and me. Even though I'll probably have it on for like, twenty seconds," Santana replied, deliberately avoiding talking about Tina. She doesn't want to get upset or jealous, not now, when they're having fun. "I never need an excuse to cuddle with you. That's just a given right."

But the vow not to be jealous is starting to be damaged when Brittany mentions Tina again. Starting to frown, Santana responds with a bit of an edge to her tone as she selects undergarments for herself and for Rachel. "I'm not Tina. I like my room exactly how it is. There's nothing wrong with my room and not having rainbows plastered everywhere. It's MY room."

Brittany scrunched her face up, as she looked at a price tag. "You still need to look extremely hot for those 20 seconds you have it on. Although, I'm sure you could pretty much walk in there with only a garbage bag on and still look good- it'd also be a lot easier to tear off." She smiled, still keeping her eyes on the bras she was shuffling through. "Yeah, that is true."

Her eyebrows rose when Santana spoke, she took a single step away from the brunette. "I was obviously joking about the Disney thing. I told you your room was fine, that it expresses you… just calm down a bit."

"True story. But bras make the goodies look more enticing," Santana shrugged, replying automatically. She is still frowning, arms crossed over her chest now, and notices when Brittany steps back from her, taking this somewhat defensively too.

"My room is awesome. Way better than whatever lame crap Tina has, I bet."

She is almost sulking as she continues to leaf through the bras, but when an announcement comes on over the intercom, announcing ten minutes until closing, her perks up again, grabbing Brittany's arm. "Come on, we have to go hide and pretend to be making out now!"

"Well, duh, of course they do." She smiled slightly at Santana. Listening to her speak once again, she was scared that Santana was going to blow the bedroom thing up way bigger than it needed to be. She kept herself from talking about how nice Tina's room was, especially with the drawings everywhere. "Well, personally I think my room is better than both of you guys', but whatever."

When Santana grabbed her arm Brittany's heart stopped for a moment, that feeling of getting caught came rushing back, but she couldn't stop herself from following right behind Santana. "Oh… okay." She simply said, no other words coming to her mind.

Leading Brittany towards the dressing room, bra still in hand, Santana is careful to walk casually, as though she's in no hurry at all. As she pulls Brittany into the dressing room, choosing the handicapped stall, she sits on its bench, tugging the blonde to sit beside her and pull up her feet so they can't be seen. Then, another thought occurring, she reaches to pull the door just slightly ajar- enough that no one can see inside, but where if someone was passing by, they would simply think no one was in there and not bothering looking inside to check.

"I'm a genius," she declares, her voice a whisper now, and she links pinkies with Brittany again, leaning her head against her shoulder and grinning. "Now we just wait a while."

Brittany looked around as they walked, making sure that no one was paying any attention to them walking into the dressing room. If they were going to do this, she wasn't going to get caught before they were even doing anything illegal. She sat up with Santana and brought her legs up to her chest. When Santana got back up, to open the door, Brittany got a bit considered, but noticed no one would even still be able to see in.

"You really are," She whispered back. Brittany laid her head on Santana's, waiting while everything was getting closed up was going to be the hard part. She was ready to run umuck through the mall with Santana.

Santana's patience level is close to zero, and within five minute after the store has officially closed to the public she is fidgeting, bored. She hums to herself softly, tapping her fingers on her own leg, but immediately hushes when she hears someone enter the dressing room. Tensing, putting a hand over Brittany's mouth, she holds perfectly still as the employee half heartedly walks around, opening two dressing rooms that were closed, then flips off the lights and walks out. Sitting in the dark, Santana releases her breath and then squeezes Brittany's hand, grinning.

Outside the employees are locking up the jewelry for the night, straightening the worse of the messes, and taking care of the registers. Santana sits, waiting, for another thirty minutes, then another twenty. It seems then that all lights are out and they are locked up, and she slowly sits up. "No cameras in dressing rooms 'cause peeping tom laws…and it's dark now…we're totally covered."

The blonde chewed on her lip as she waited for something to happen, whether it be someone walked in or they finally closed the mall. She listened to Santana's humming, up until Santana put her hand over her mouth. She sat there, not moving a single muscle as she waited for the employee to get through the dressing rooms, terrified that he'd swing the door open and see them. She pulled Santana's hand off her mouth and smiled right back at the other girl.

She was ready to get up and get out, but instead had to wait around for them to finish closing up. She felt like they'd been sitting in that dressing room for hours. When Santana finally spoke, she knew she wasn't going to be able to see her so clearly, but still looked over to her. "So, what exactly do you want to do first?"

Fumbling for Brittany's hand, Santana pulled her to her feet, then kept hold of her hand so they would be less likely to stumble or trip over something in the dark. She didn't admit that part of her reason for holding onto her hand was because she was nervous too, her stomach in knots as much from this as from excitement.

"Beds," she said immediately, wanting to jump on them. Giggling a little, she starts to inch her way out of the dressing room, getting used to the darkness. "I can jump higher than you can."

Brittany held on tight to Santana's hand, not wanting to get separated from her. At this point, she wasn't feeling as nervous, sure there were cameras around, but as long as they were sneaky enough they wouldn't get caught. She was positive they would be able to make it through the night without anyone even noticing they were there.

She laughed when Santana told her where they were going. She was excited to be having this time with Santana; they didn't get to do crazy stuff together all that often. "Only in your dreams, Lopez. There's no way you can jump higher than I can."

"Oh, bring it," Santana shot back, outright grinning now, dimples flickering into view. One hand stretched in front of her as her eyes adjusted, she walked forward with Brittany, frequently knocking into a clothes rack and either swearing or giggling each time. As they slowly made their way to the bed department, several small beds were lined up in a row, and she pulled Brittany on one with her, beginning to jump. One issue was that there wasn't much room on the shortened beds to have much space to land, so she began to jump from bed to bed, laughing out loud.

"I win!"

Brittany had a smile plastered on her face- she couldn't stop smiling even if she wanted to. The sound of Santana running into things made her laugh just a little bit louder each time. When they finally found their way into the mattress store, she got giddy; she hadn't jumped on beds for a long time. This was making her feel like a little kid again. With the help of Santana, she got up onto one of the beds and immediately started jumping.

"Oh, just wish you won!" She was laughed as she spoke, playfully rolling her eyes while she still bounced on one of the beds.

Jumping onto the same bed Brittany was on, Santana took her hands, holding them as she bounced up and down, giggling uncontrollably. Her hair is flying all over her face, her eyes are squinted up with her huge smile, and she is thoroughly enjoying every second of this, feeling like a kid again.

She forgets her stress and her anxieties then, her dread of her futures and her jealousy. She lets go in the moment and simply has fun, and when she falls off the bed with one over enthused jump, dragging Brittany with her, she is still giggling.

Brittany grabbed on tight to Santana's hands when she came back to the same bed, she smiled as she listened to Santana's giggles. The blonde let go of her before plopping down onto her butt, she sat there looking up at Santana until she sat down with her.

She lets out a small laugh before she spoke. "We should do stuff like this all the time. This is the most fun I've had in forever." She giggled again. "Maybe not stay in malls over-night all the time, but do risky things more often."

Breathless, her hair sticking out all over the place, Santana sat next to Brittany, grinning over at her. "We totes should. See how awesome I am? Told you."

She wrapped her arm around Brittany's shoulders and nuzzled her head into her, then, pulling back, stood up abruptly, reaching for her hand. "Let's play Marco Polo in the dark!"

Brittany nodded her head, still with a huge smile stuck on her face. "I obviously knew how awesome you were. But, this is actually way more fun and I thought it would be." She placed her hand on Santana's leg as she breathed out heavily.

The blonde reached up and grabbed Santana's hand once again as she stood up, then jumped off the bed. "Okay!"

"No, wait, you can't hold my hand, that's the point of Marco Polo," Santana explained, detaching. "You go hide somewhere and I walk around trying to find you. Every time I say Marco you say Polo until I can. Here, go hide."

She closes her eyes, counting to fifty as fast as she can in her head. No need to let her get too far ahead.

"Oh… okay." She was happy Santana couldn't see the pink shade she felt come to her cheeks she then allowed her hands to fall and slap her legs. "I'll just go hid… over….. somewhere." She pointed in two different directions.

Brittany ran and quietly as she could to the very back of the store, where only the employees were allowed. Mostly because she just wanted to see what it looked like.

Santana cheats with the counting, skipping the last five numbers, and turns around, swiveling her head as she looks for Brittany in the darkness. She can't see anything or anyone moving, only many shadows all around the store, and she feels a stir of unease, creeped out in spite of herself. Shaking it off, she calls out to Brittany, beginning to move forward.

"Marco!"

Standing in the room, Brittany gets as good of a look as she could with it being as dark as it was. She didn't like standing in the dark for so long, especially without anyone right next to her, she knew Santana was still in the same store, but it wasn't the same. The blonde nearly had a heart-attack when she heard Santana yell.

She kept the door cracked just enough to where Santana would be able to hear her. "Polo!"

Santana's head turns in the direction she thinks Brittany's voice is coming from, but it's hard for her to be sure. She starts to move forward slowly, hands outstretched, stopping frequently. She trips over a suitcase in one of the houseware departments and swears, rubbing her leg, before calling again. "Marco?"

Since Brittany was so close to the door, she had to try hard not to giggle, occasionally a small one would slip out, but she didn't want to give Santana more hints than she was supposed to. When she wasn't speaking, she had to hold her hands over her mouth.

"Polo!"

Head turning, Santana continued to inch forward. This time she starts to sing loudly, hoping Brittany will start giggling and make it easier to find her. "Allllll my single ladies…put a ring on it!"

Brittany pressed her hand harder onto her mouth, she was trying her hardest not to laugh. Small giggles would slip out every once in a while as she listened to Santana sing. She wanted to tell Santana that she wasn't being fair, but she was too busy holding in her laugh- and hiding.

As cautiously as she could manage in the dark, Santana starts adding dance moves too, figuring that Brittany is probably watching her from wherever she is. She is barely moving towards her now, switching her song to "My Cup." Brittany isn't laughing loudly enough where she can hear yet, and Santana holds back her own grin, continuing to sing.

The blonde was peeking through the crack of the door, she couldn't see Santana very well, but could see her doing the hand movements to the song. Unwillingly, a loud laugh escaped her lips- she slapped her hands back onto her mouth. Then she heard her singing My Cup, she slid down the wall, pushing her hands on her mouth harder and harder. She knew that she wasn't going to be able to keep her laugh in much longer.

Brittany is holding out a lot better than Santana had expected. This means war. Really pushing the envelope now, Santana begins with "Trouty mouth," wildly gesturing as she goes and occasionally knocking her elbows into racks as she melodramatically mimes along with it. This one HAS to get Britt going

Hearing Santana singing yet another song- this one the funniest of them all- she can't help but laugh. She laughed so hard she even snorted once, but quickly pulled her hands back over her mouth to muffle the sound of her laughter; she knew this time Santana would more than likely find her.

This time Santana hears Brittany's muffled laughter and this helps her to locate her. Grinning, still singing "Trouty Mouth" at the top of her lungs now, she draws closer, pretty sure now she knows the general area. Pausing occasionally to listen, then singing another few lines, she finally tracks Brittany down. Throwing open the door to the employee area, she crows triumphantly, "MARCO!"

Brittany jumped when Santana swung the door open, but it just made her laugh even harder than she had been. She walked over to Santana and placed her hand on Santana's arm.

"Polo." She tried to sound sad, but she was laughing too hard to. "That totally wasn't fair, Santana."

"Was too," Santana is grinning. She slips an arm around Brittany, very much pleased with herself, and even bounces on her toes. "You hid too good, I couldn't find you. Now is it your turn or you wanna go somewhere else?"

Brittany shook her head. "It wasn't. In Marco Polo you're not supposed to sing to make me laugh." Brittany put her arm around Santana's shoulders, still smiling. "Somewhere else. If you thought I hid too good, I can only imagine how good at this game you are."

Squeezing Brittany back, Santana thought, naming the possibilities. "We go watch TV in Sears…we can play in the toy store with the stuffed animals and try out the walking stilts and ride the unicycles and stuff…we can swim in the fountain in the middle of the mall…or skinny dip," she snickers, wiggling her eyebrows. "Up to you, Britt."

As Brittany listened to all the things Santana had listed off, she nodded making sure that she knew she was really listening. "Well, I promised she who shall remain nameless that there'd be no getting naked so… skinny dipping is out. This is your bucket-list thing, do whatever you feel like doing."

"Well how are we supposed to get in pajamas then? We can't have a pajama party without changing into pajamas," Santana pointed out, deliberately pouting. Still, she knows that she's also promised the same to Rachel, so she shrugs. "We can play in the fountain in underwear, right, that isn't naked."

Brittany bit her lip and shrugged her shoulders."Don't know." She looked over at Santana and smiled. "Hm. I guess if we're still in our bra and underwear then it doesn't really count as being naked, it'd be almost like we had bikinis on. So I guess I'll race you to the water fountain." She pulled away from Santana and immediately began running as fast as she could.

Author note: Scene to be continued


	52. Chapter 52

Laughing aloud, surprised, but quickly getting her competitive spirit back, Santana takes off after her, easily catching up to her but having to work to keep stride due to Brittany's longer legs. Finally she throws herself at her back, forcing her to slow down, and then hitches herself up so she's riding piggyback the rest of the way.

"Tie," she declares, satisfied with herself, and slides down off Brittany's back before the fountain. The mall is still very dark, her voice echoing, and she is a little creeped out but trying not to show it, staying close to Brittany as she starts to strip. "I bet the water is cold."

Brittany glanced behind her as she ran, seeing how close Santana was to her. When she saw that Santana was about to grab her she tried to pick up her speed but was caught before she could. Brittany breathed out heavily when Santana jumped onto her back, a bit taken back by it.

"It's not a tie when I have to give you a piggy back, plus my body was here before yours was since you're behind me now so technically I won." Brittany unwrapped her arms from Santana's legs and allowed her to get off her back. The moment the other girl was off her back, she pulled her shirt off. "Well probably, it's a fountain." She sat down on the edge and placed her hand in the water, goosebumps ran up her arm. "Definitely cold."

"Nope, tie," Santana argues, shaking her head. "My foot was sticking out so actually my foot was there first and then your head. So total tie."

Her eyes flit quickly over Brittany when she removes her shirt before she puts herself in the "friend" mode where this is not a big deal to see. Removing her own clothes, she steps one foot inside, then the other, making a face to show how cold it is. Not waiting for Brittany to inch in herself, she grabs her arms and pulls her down beside her, flicking water her way.

"I stepped here though, so my foot, then your foot. So, I won." Brittany shrugged her shoulders then stuck her tongue out at her friend.

Brittany pulled her sweat pants off and threw them far away from the fountain so she wouldn't risk getting them wet. She stepped into the freezing water, she shivered; Brittany gasped when she was pulled down. "Oh. My. God." She splashed water back at Santana.

"Yeah but my foot got there before your foot. Way before. Total tie!" Santana insisted, grinning and sticking her tongue back out at Brittany and adding bunny ears as well.

When Brittany splashes her back, she shrieks out loud, laughing, and starts to splash her more rapidly, scooping up handfuls and throwing them towards her. Goosebumps are rising on her skin but she ignores the cold, kicking at the pennies at the bottom of the fountain and calling out to Brittany, "We're stomping on wishes!"

Brittany shook her head, still slightly smiling. "Whatever you say, Santana. If you wanna think that, then okay," She laughed as she spoke to her friend.

The water being splashed at her made her turn her head and close her eyes, every once in a while splashing back at Santana. Brittany stopped splashing the moment Santana spoke, she grabbed her arms so the water would stop flying at her. "We're just soaking in the wishes. All the wishes people have asked for, will now come to us. That's how it works."

"I think it and it's totally okay. Also totally true," Santana stuck her tongue at her again, then laughed, kicking water towards her.

She let Brittany grab her arms, her hair now dripping down her back, and she notices but tries to look away from the fact that Brittany's nipples are almost certainly going to be visible through her bra. At Brittany's changing of the wishes, Santana smiles, reaching out to take hold of Brittany's arms too.

"Close your eyes then. Wish too."

Brittany smiled at Santana and let out a soft sigh as she lightly squeezed her arms. She shut her eyes and leaned her head back as she, sending her wish for her best friend and girlfriend to like one another straight up to the sky. When she was sure that the wish was out in the universe she brought her head back down and looked back at the other girl.

"So, what did you wish for?" She asked letting go of Santana. She knew there was a strict rule with wishes, if you spoke them out-loud then they wouldn't come true, but they _were_ sitting in a fountain.

Santana too closes her eyes, wishing with a faint hope that maybe, just maybe, in the near magic of this moment it might come true. She focuses on Brittany's hands on her arms and hers on Brittany's, and she wishes with fervent longing that for the rest of her life, there will be moments like this with Brittany…that they will always be each other's best friends.

when she opens her eyes, looking back at her, she shakes her head, smiling. "Can't tell you or it won't come true."

If there was a moment in Brittany's life, where she felt free and happy it was this very moment, even if they were half naked sitting in the middle of a mall. She wipes water dripping down her face away as she listened to Santana.

"We're sitting in a water fountain full of wishes, if there were a time to tell a wish it and it still come true, this is the time." She lets her hands float on the water. "I'll tell you what I wished for as long as you promise to tell me what you wished for."

Santana still hesitates, then releases her breath, nodding. If she keeps it a secret maybe it won't come true because Brittany won't be trying to make it true. Reaching out, she skims her hand over the water's surface, then takes Brittany's, squeezing.

"I wish we'll be friends forever. Just like this. Always."

Brittany softly sighed as she waited for Santana to tell her, she figured it would be something along the lines of staying 17 forever or wanting to be famous, so when she heard what her wish was she automatically smiled.

"Santana, we will be best friends until we just can't stand each other anymore- which will be never ever happen. But remember, we promised each other that we would never stop being best friends."

"Promise me again," Santana said quietly, looking up at her, still squeezing her hand. "Promise me."

It's something she needs to hear, that she needs to tell herself over and over. Because every time she thinks about her future, of being an adult and separated from Brittany or Rachel or both, she gets so anxious she can barely breathe. Biting her lip, she asks Brittany again.

"Promise."

Brittany flips her hair behind her shoulders and sits up straight. She locks her eyes with Santana's.

"I promise that no matter what we say or do that you will forever be my very best friend. It doesn't matter if we're married with children and sometimes can't talk to each other, you will still be my best friend. Whether we're across the world or live in the same town, you will still be my best friend. I promise that you and I will be best friends until the last day we are alive and even then when we're dead you're still going to be my best friend. Is that a good enough promise for you?"

Santana nods, blinking back sudden tears and lowering her head to try to hide them. She doesn't want to think about Brittany being married or not being able to talk to her. She doesn't want to think about her living across the world or either of them dying. She wants everything to be exactly like it is now, forever. She wants their worlds to freeze. But she knows it can't happen, so this is the best she can get. She tries to smile, to take comfort in Brittany's desire for the same.

"Okay."

Taking a slow breath again, she asks, "What was yours?"

Brittany scooted closer to Santana, to where their knees were touching, she then smiled. The fact that Santana was so worried about their friendship, it was sweet. How many people really fought to keep their friend no matter what happened? From Brittany's experiences, not many.

"Um, I just wished for you and Tina to get along." She shrugged as she looked away from Santana, she knew Tina was a very touchy subject.

Santana smiled, able to make her tears go away now as Brittany touched her knees with hers. The smile began to fade slowly when Brittany told her what her wish was, however, and she shifted, one knee leaving Brittany's.

She did not want to get along with Tina. Not for her own sake, and just barely so for Brittany's or Rachel's. She made no comment about this, however, just sighing aloud. "So…what do we do next."

Brittany noticed the quick change of subject, not saying anything about her wish. That was the number one thing Brittany wanted most at this point in her life, for her best friend and her girlfriend to be able to talk to one another without ripping each other's heads off.

She stood up, still keeping a hold of Santana's hands. "Wanna just walk around, until we dry off? Like go see parts of the mall we're not allowed to see during the day time."

Standing with her, Santana nods, stepping out of the fountain and pulling Brittany out with her. As she starts to walk, hair dripping down her back and legs, she leaves her clothes discarded to return to later. It should be weird, walking barefoot through a mall with Brittany in her underwear, but somehow it seems normal in the moment to her.

"Like what? Employee areas are boring." then a new idea strikes her. "The ROOF!"

Brittany laughed over at Santana when she suggested they go on the roof. It was freezing out and they were soaking wet, those two things didn't mix well, but since it was something Santana wanted to do so she nodded once and smiled.

"Okay, let's go up on the roof. Can we get dressed first though?" She stopped walking and pointed back to where their clothes were.

"But we're still wet," she pointed out. "Our clothes will be wet. I guess maybe we can change into pajamas though..but it's way cooler to be on teh roof in our underwear."

Nevertheless she starts to walk back with Brittany. It occurs to her if someone sees them up on the roof, regardless of what they're wearing, it could be a problem, but seh doesn't mention that to Brittany.

"True, but we can go change our clothes and by time we do that and find our way up to the roof our hair might be a little dry. Unless you _really_ want to go up there in our bra and panties, then we will freeze."

Brittany wrapped both of her arms around Santana's as they walked back to where their clothes were. She had a bit of bounce in her walk, Brittany was just so happy being there with Santana she couldn't help it.

Santana considered this, reluctantly agreeing. It was February, after all, and probably freezing like Brittany had said. As Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana's, Santana grinned, happy as well. This had really been a great day, and she is completely relaxed and enjoying her time with her.

Dressing back in her clothes, she looks back to see if Brittany is too, then begins to walk with her again, arm in arm, feeling her hair dripping down her back a little still, dampening her shirt. "Where do you think we can get up on the roof from? There's gotta be a way up through the ceiling."

When they got back to their clothes, Brittany immediately turned her back to Santana. She had promised Tina that Santana wouldn't see her naked and though they hadn't stayed fully clothed, she intended to keep the rest of the promise.

After she had her pajamas on, she began putting her wet hair up in a bun as she turned around to Santana. Brittany looked up to the ceiling and sighed. "I don't know. Maybe there's a room specifically for getting up to the roof?" She shrugged as she continued to look around.

Now dressed, though she hasn't bothered to deal with her hair, Santana shrugs back. "Well let's look then." Linking pinkies with Brittany, she starts to walk, head tilted up, thinking. And then it dawns on her- utility room. Most likely there will be a way from there.

Walking into the far corner of the mall, where bathrooms and telephones are also located, she finds the utility room, which has, of course, been locked. Disappointed, Santana attempts to figure out how to unlock it, but then gives up.

"I don't know how we'd climb up without going outside and we can't…damn it," she mumbles, disappointed. "I really wanted to."

Brittany looked down to their locked pinkies and smiled, before looking back to see where it was she was walking. When Santana told her where she thought it would be, Brittany began skipping to where they needed to go.

The blonde stood back and watched as Santana tried unlocking the door, humming as she waited. The moment Santana said she gave up, Brittany used the back of her hand to touch her friend's arm.

"When did you start giving up so easily? The key is probably in one of the employee's rooms or the managers little office."

Turning back to Brittany with a grin at her suggestion, Santana hugs her, leaning her cheek briefly into Brittany's. "You're a genius, Britt. Awesome. So employee room is…back where we were."

She starts to head back to Penney's, swinging Brittany's hand as they walk. It's easy enough to find the employee room Brittany had been in, though she had to fumble around for quite some time, using the light of her cell phone for a feeble glow, to locate the area where the keys were. By the time she found a key ring which she assumed must contain the correct key and headed back with Brittany, Santana was wondering what time it was getting to be, but said nothing. It took another several minutes, once back at the correct area, before Santana found the right key, but soon they were inside, exactly where they needed to be. Letting out a whoop of triumph, she stepped inside with Brittany, shutting the door behind her, and soon located the ladder and roof opening area as needed. Opening the ladder and starting to climb up, Santana pushed the section of the roof open and climbed up, looking down through its now open hole at Brittany with another huge grin.

"Come on!"

Brittany smiled and shrugged. "I was blessed with a brilliant mind." She didn't always think that, but when people like Santana and Tina told her she was, she believed it just a little bit more.

Once again going straight back to where they had been, she stood at the front of the store, waiting for Santana to come back with a ring of keys. Her smile was huge when she saw the keys in her hands, wanting to run as fast as she could back to the locked door- if you could see her excitement level, it'd already be up on the roof. The moment the door opened, Brittany clapped her hands and cheered, then watched as Santana climbed up the ladder. When Santana told her to come, she immediately began climbing up the ladder to get where her friend was.

"I think I love this." Brittany said as soon as she stepped foot on the roof. She wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm.

Turning to Brittany with a huge grin, Santana reaches for her hands, excitedly dancing them in a circle. Laughing out loud, she keeps dancing with her, celebrating their success in making it up.

"Come on, Britt, dance! Can't be cold if you're moving!"

She let go of her hands and began a makeshift cheerleading routine, ending it with a cartwheel, triple backflip into a split. Popping back up, she grabbed Brittany's hands again.

"No one will ever see us here… we could flip off the whole town and they'd never know…"

Smirking to herself, she does just this, giggling. "We're above you all…literally!"

Santana's laughter was contagious, Brittany couldn't help but laugh right along with her. She loved seeing how happy her friend was, it didn't seem like she got to see her like that much anymore. She began dancing right along with Santana, not doing anything like she did in glee club, more of a jump around and try not to fall from laughter kind of dancing.

"Isn't it cool? We can see pretty much all of Lima from up here… well what the streetlights will let us see." She looked over at Santana, still smiling. When Santana began flipping off the whole town, Brittany covered her face, everything but her eyes and began laughing again.

Brittany sat down, not too close to the edge, but to where she could still parts of the front parking lot. She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. "We should sit on roofs more often. It's strangely calming."

Santana laughs even more as Brittany joins in her dancing, her eyes sparkling, squinted up with her smile until they were almost not able to be seen. She knows that she must look completely goofy, but she doesn't care at all. She feels young and free and alive in a way she has been afraid for some time she may soon loose, and she doesn't want to take anything away from this moment.

"I'm a genius too," She declares in response to Brittany's comment about being able to see Lima, flipping off the town with a final flourish before turning back to Brittany, turning her gesture into a smiling beckon instead.

As Brittany sits, Santana sits beside her, shoulder to shoulder, leaning into her. Her heart full, a soft smile still on her face, she leans her head into Brittany's shoulder, wrapping an arm around her waist as she snuggles down into her. "I really do love you, Britt."

She smiles up at her, a soft, nostalgic smile, and then, before she has thought it out at all, or even quite realized the idea was in her mind, she turns and gives her a soft kiss on the lips. No tongue, no more than a few seconds long…but still very much a kiss.

Brittany nodded in agreement, Santana was a genius. She always had great ideas, sleeping in the mall and going up on the roof being one of them. "That you are." She pointed her finger up at Santana and winked.

She let out a soft breath when Santana sat next to her, she loved moments like this. Brittany leaned her head on Santana's; she put her legs back down and laid them across Santana's to help keep her warm. "I love you too, Sanny. So much."

As soon as she saw Santana's smile, something deep down knew what was going to happen and she knew that she should stop it, but she didn't. Brittany's heart nearly jumped out of her chest the moment their lips touched, it had been quite some time since the two of them had kissed. When she pulled her head away from Santana's she bit her lip so she wouldn't smile.

As the weight and warmth of Brittany's legs settle over hers, Santana snuggles in closer against her, leaning into her heavily. She can feel Brittany's heart beating against her shoulder, Brittany's breath against her hair, and she continues to smile, relaxed, loves to hear Brittany say she loves her, to hear the genuine feeling in her tone.

As she pulls back from the kiss, she realizes that Brittany had not quite kissed her back, but neither had she stopped her…and she looks pretty happy about it. Still she is not thinking of what she has done in full; still she is caught up, almost high in the moment of being with her, and on instinct she turns and kisses her again, a little longer this time, though still without tongue.

It feels so natural, somehow, like riding a bike. It feels comfortable and okay, almost automatic.

And Rachel doesn't occur to her. Not then.

Brittany kept her eyes locked with Santana's, then her heart began racing when she saw Santana leaning in again. This time now that she _really_knew what was happening, she kissed her back. She forgot about how cold it was and about Tina, she forgot about everything during the kiss.

Kissing Santana was something that she felt was completely normal since they'd done it so much in the past, at the same time though, it was nice and exciting and sweet. She finally pulled back from Santana, she felt a bit of guilt at that point, but she was still so wrapped up in Santana.

"I uh… That was nice." Brittany chuckled as she looked away from Santana. She pulled the sleeve of her sweat shirt over her hand and covered her mouth, so she wouldn't seem crazy for smiling so big.

It wasn't until Brittany pulled back, or really until she finally spoke, that Santana first began to truly think about what she was doing. As Brittany pulled back, covering her mouth with her sleeve, Santana wondered at first if she was subtly wiping off her mouth, or trying to prevent Santana from being able to lean in and kiss her again. And then all the reasons WHY Brittany might do that started flashing through her mind, so fast that she sucked in her breath, beginning to feel genuine shock.

She had just kissed Brittany. More than once. She was dating Rachel, she loved Rachel, with all her heart, and she knew Rachel loved her. But she was kissing Brittany. She was sitting up on this roof, in a romantic setting, after having had a perfect day with her..kissing her.

How could she do that? What did that mean?

Maybe Rachel hadn't been quite as available as usual lately. Maybe she was starting to feel a little neglected, a little bored. But she had promised her she could trust her with Brittany…what did this mean?

"Yeah," she said somewhat hoarsely, nodding. "It's…yeah."

She hesitated, then asked, "Brittany…what did we just do?"


	53. Chapter 53

Brittany's smile quickly faded when the guilt hit her like a ton of bricks. She laid back and covered her face with both of her arms. How was she supposed to tell Tina what had happened when she already disliked Santana so much and wasn't even all that sure about her going to the mall in the first place.

"Something we really, really shouldn't have done." Brittany said, her voice muffled from her arm.

She couldn't stop thinking about how angry and hurt Tina was going to be- what if she cried? Tina would probably hate her after she told her about the kissing and Brittany wouldn't blame her, she sort of hated herself at that moment. Not only had she just cheated on her girlfriend, but she'd also enjoyed the kiss, much more than she should have. She was the definition of an awful girlfriend.

Santana's face burns as she looks away. She draws her knees into her chest, hugging them tightly, and stares down at the city below her, barely seeing what she is looking at. She is seeing Brittany's face, the brightness of her smile, and then Rachel's, the devastation that would totally take over her features if she were ever to know…

She sucks so hard. How could she do this?

And yet Brittany's reaction hurts her too. As she turns to look at her, seeing the shame in Brittany's response, she finds herself somewhat bothered. "Are you…sorry?"

Brittany peeked through her arms, looking up at the dark sky she felt tears forming in her eyes. She wasn't about to cry, not during the most perfect night ever, she squeezed her eyes shut and sighed. When Santana asked her if she was sorry she didn't answer right away, she laid there for a moment before sitting up so she was face-to-face with Santana.

"I… don't know. Should I be? I mean, I feel bad that Tina is going to be so hurt, but… I don't know." Brittany shrugged. "What about you?"

Santana bites her lower lip, her eyes dropping, and her shoulders hunch forward as she considers. She doesn't want to look at Brittany, but she finally forces her eyes up, trying to ignore the gnawing discomfort in her stomach as she replies.

"I don't know either."

How did this night go from the best night of Brittany's life, to quite possibly one of the most depressing? Suddenly the cold hit her again and a shiver ran up her body, she then laid her head down on her knees. Brittany chewed on the inside of her cheek, then finally spoke.

"Why did you kiss me? You have a girlfriend, I have a girlfriend…"

There are tears coming to Santana's eyes now, and clinches her jaw, trying to blink several times in a row to keep them back. It doesn't seem to be quite working, though, and her voice is tight and high when she answers.

"I don't know…we were having fun and it was like things used to be….everything's changing and it was back how it used to be and it felt good and..I don't know…are you mad?"

As Santana spoke, Brittany bit down harder on the inside of her cheek, things did seem like they had before, she was having the most fun she'd had in quite some time so she understood why Santana would kiss her. She scooted closer to Santana and wrapped her arms around her, nuzzling her face in Santana's neck.

"No, I'm not mad. I'm just a little confused, but not mad." She tightened her arms around Santana and sighed.

As Brittany hugs her, nuzzling, Santana is having to fight even harder against her threatening tears. She slowly puts her arms around Brittany too, feeling her throat choke as she lets Brittany hold her, guilt and anxiety becoming near panic as she tightens her arms more and more.

"Sorry..I didn't..I don't think I really meant to…"

Brittany contemplated whether she should move or not, it wasn't like that was big news to her. She knew that it was an impulsive kiss, nothing more than that, but when you like the kiss… that's where things got confusing. She didn't let go of Santana though, she was afraid that if she did she'd run away from her and the whole night go down the drain.

"I didn't figure you did, you love Rachel. There was an opportunity to do it and so you did… that's that."

Hiding her face against Brittany's shoulder, Santana continues to fight not to cry, not looking up at her. She can't seem to calm down and in fact is getting more upset with every passing minute. The more she thinks about what just happened and what she did, how upset Rachel will be when or if she finds out, the harder it is to breathe, and the more sick to her stomach she feels. Santana clutches Brittany, aware of her increasingly rapid breaths as she continues to think. She loved Brittany…just as much as Rachel. But was it just as much, as her long time friend, or just as much…in the same way?

She knew she was in love with Rachel. She was almost positive she wasn't in love with Brittany, not anymore. But then why had she let this happen?

When Brittany finally pulled away from Santana and she could see the guilt on her face, she wished nothing more than for time to reverse. If she hadn't allowed Santana to kiss her, she wouldn't be so confused about her feels. Brittany was so sure before that Tina was the person she'd been spending the rest of her life with, but after this… who knew what would happen. She didn't know how she felt and Tina would be so angry she'd probably break up with her. She knew she had to stop thinking about that or she'd drive herself nuts, so she stood up and held her hand out to Santana.

"Come on, let's go back inside. I'm cold and tired and.. I just want to go to bed."

Letting Brittany pull her to her feet, Santana follows her numbly back to the hole in the roof to drop back down. the whole time they are putting everything back and making their way towards Penney's to sleep, she is still blinking back tears frequently. The whole day seems ruined now, and she is feeling progressively more intense self-hatred.

She doesn't know if she and Brittany will share a bed, or if they even should anymore. All she can think of is Rachel, and how much she's screwed up. She can't lie to her, but how can she stand to tell her?

At this point, Brittany was almost tempted to go home, she wanted Lord Tubbington to give her advice, to help her figure out her feelings, to cuddle her. He was like her therapist and she needed him. Santana however, wanted to stay the night in the mall, it was on her bucketlist and she couldn't just up and leave no matter how awful she felt.

"Are things going to be awkward between us again? Because I don't want us to be weird and us fight all the time."

But at this point, Santana isn't really keen on spending the night in the mall anymore either. The whimsy and sense of mischievousness has gone out of it, and instead all she can focus on is what is going to happen when morning comes- not in the mall, but beyond it.

When Brittany asks her if things will be awkward, that's the all it takes for tears to finally overflow. Trying to stop herself from full out crying, Santana stops walking, wiping at her eyes quickly with just her fingertips, and then rolls her eyes up, trying to stem any more from coming.

"I don't want it to be…" Deep breath, then, "Are you telling Tina?"

When she saw Santana wiping tears away, Brittany wrapped her arm around Santana's waist. She began chewing hard on her lip. She didn't respond immediately, of course she would be telling Tina, how could she not. If she had that bottled up in her for the rest of her life, she'd explode.

"Me either, but does that mean it actually won't be?" She looked over at Santana and shrugged. "I have to tell her."

Not the words Santana wanted to hear. Although she knew she was going to have to tell Rachel, she also had sort of hoped that Brittany wouldn't tell Tina, or that maybe Brittany could come up with an awesome reason that they shouldn't. A few more tears come as she leans slightly into Brittany's arm, and she puts her hand over her face, trying to hide this.

"Oh god…why did I do this? She's going to be so mad. She's probably going to cry. I can't take Rachel crying, you just don't even know how much it sucks…" Santana sucked in a shaky breath, trying not to picture Rachel's exact expression, her wide eyes swimming in tears. "Why did I DO this?"

And still another question…why had she LIKED it?

Listening to everything Santana was saying was just making Brittany feel ever worse than she had. She shook her head before she stop walking making Santana stand right in front of her, she put her hands on Santana's shoulder and began talking.

"It's not just you Santana, I don't know why it was that you wanted to kiss me, but I could've stopped you. I could've said no and we could've left it at that, but instead I allowed you to kiss me and I'm not entirely sure why I let it happen, but it's done… we can't take it back. If it makes you feel better you can tell Rachel that I was the one who kissed you and I'll tell Tina the same thing, so calm down okay?"

"No," Santana shook her head, lifting one hand to wipe at her eyes again. She breathed in slowly, trying to use Brittany's touch to reground herself as she reshook her head. "No…I won't…I can't lie. I won't do that to you. Or her."

She slowly starts to regain control, then pulls away from Brittany, grabbing her hand again. "No, it can't get weird. I won't let it. I still love you and we're still best friends forever, we promised. It won't change with us, but…"

But it will with Rachel. She knows it will, and that's what scares her.

"Yes. Tell her that I was the one who kissed you, she won't be as mad- at least not at you. If she thinks that it was me who kissed you guys will probably stay together and everything will be okay between you two." But she knew that if she told Tina that she was the one who kissed Santana, things would be worse between them. Whether Brittany liked it or not Santana _needed_ Rachel and didn't want things to go bad between them.

Brittany wasn't sure how things wouldn't be weird now, she didn't want that to happen but it seemed inevitable. "I would love for that to happen… I don't know what I'd do without you being in my life, but sometimes promises don't exactly work out the way we want them to. I'm scared that's going to happen."

"NO! Brittany, no…I won't do that. I can't…I can't do that," Santana shakes her head, adamant. As much as she might be tempted, she knows how terrible she would feel, every single day, if she stood there and lied to Rachel's face. She can't blame Brittany for her own actions. She can't make Rachel hate her and distrust her when it was Santana who had made the first move and Santana who should be getting the end results.

When Brittany starts to talk about promises not working out, and possibly not having her in her life, it's all she can do to stop herself from starting to cry all over again. This is too much to even begin to consider right now. What if Rachel is upset with her and won't forgive her AND things are so weird with Brittany that they can't be friends? What if things are so terrible she can't even begin to make them right? How is she going to be able to handle being totally alone?

She clings to Brittany's hand as they walk, too upset by her own thoughts to even try to talk anymore. As they gather up their belongings by the fountain and return to Penney's, she hasn't said a single word.

"Well, if you change your mind, let me know so I can change my story for Tina." She sighed. Brittany wished that she didn't have to tell Tina about this, she wanted to be able to play it off as if nothing happened at all. She'd die of guilt if she didn't.

As they continued to walk, Brittany could feel things between them getting awkward. The not speaking thing, it almost never happened when they were together, she was sure that Santana was already planning her escape from the friendship. She let go of Santana hand and grabbed her clothes from before and held them close to her, she kept her mind set on going straight to the store and falling asleep immediately so she wouldn't have to continue thinking about the night's events.

88

PMs

Santana: Did you tell Tina?

Brittany: No, not yet…

Santana:…should I do it?

Brittany: No. I want to do it, I just have to find the right time to do it. Have you told Rachel?

Santana: no…

Brittany: Do you want me to tell her for you?

Santana: NO OMG NO

Brittany: Okay… just thought I'd offer. When are you going to tell her?

Santana: I don't know…Britt…how far are you on finishing that time machine?

Brittany: I'm pretty far away from getting it together.. a few years at least. I do wish that I could figure out how to make it right now so we wouldn't have to tell anyone.

Santana: Dammit.

Brittany: Do you wish we would've never gone to the mall at all and instead just stayed home and watched movies with our girlfriends?

Santana: Stop it.

Brittany: You stop. I just want to know if you feel the same way I do.

Santana: You're going to make me cry again and I can't take it, just stop.

Texts

**Rachel:**Hello sweetie! I haven't heard from you since your mall adventure, but I hope it went all. Besides. I haven't exactly been able to contact you either outside of school.

**Rachel:**I just wanted you to know that I've officially caught up on all of my homework, and reading, etc, so will have much more free time. I was hoping we could spend the weekend together or something. Breadstix? My treat?

**Rachel:**Anyway, let me know! Hugs and kisses and all my love, your diamond

**Santana:**Uh...okay...**  
Rachel:**Everything alright? You're usually much more excited about Breadstix.

**Santana:**Uh...

**Santana:**we have to skip Breadstix.**  
Rachel:**Oh no, are you sick? Did you get food poisoning? Do you need me to come over? I promise not cuddle without a mask or anything this time.

**Santana:**No...I'm not sick.

**Santana:**Just...we have to...can I come over?**  
Rachel:**Of course. Is... is everything okay? Is it your grandmother again? Your dad?

**Santana:**No...just...

**Santana:**I'm coming over.

7

Ever since the night in the mall with Brittany, and their shared kisses, Santana had absolutely hated herself for what she had done.

She was trying not to take out her feelings against Brittany, trying not to let things become strained or resentful or awkward between them. No matter what she had done, no matter what was going to happen, she knew that she couldn't tolerate things changing between her and Brittany, she couldn't tolerate losing her- especially if she were, inevitably, going to lose Rachel. But what if Tina made Brittany choose? Who would she choose- the girl she was dating and apparently in love with, though Santana still can't understand why, or her best friend, the girl who had just gotten her in trouble by kissing her after they had both promised everything would be fine to their own girlfriends? What if Brittany chose Tina? How could Santana stand to lose Brittany forever?

This was where the kisses had stemmed from, she realized now, after almost nonstop thinking and analyzing and two fully sleepless nights in a row. It had happened in the atmosphere of the moment, of course, but it had not been bred of a heated charged between them, of passion or lust or any real romantic love for Brittany at all. No, Santana had gradually figured out, she had kissed Brittany because she had been having fun with her, having a good day, a playful, almost magical day with her, just like she had when they were younger and there seemed to be no one else as important in the world as they were to each other. Because she finally felt secure and reassured with Brittany in that moment, like she used to, that Brittany did love her and need her and have fun with her, that she meant just as much to Brittany as Brittany meant to her, and that this would never change. Because she had felt young again, because she had felt in those moments that the future she had stressed and worried herself over for so long may in fact never have to happen at all, that she could continue to forever live as a technical child in the magic of moments like those, without losing anyone or anything at all. Because she had talked herself out of believing in reality, and now she would lose everything that she had convinced herself she was holding onto.

Brittany had offered to let her take the blame, to tell both Tina and Rachel the lie that Brittany had kissed Santana first instead of simply returning the gesture. But as tempting as it was, Santana couldn't do that to her. She couldn't look Rachel in the face and lie to her, not after having already betrayed her in this way. She hated herself enough as it was without having to add onto the reasons why.

For two straight nights in a row Santana couldn't sleep without picturing Rachel's fully devastated face, without imagining every possible scenario for what might happen when she finally told. She couldn't eat, and her mother's observation of this and pointed reprimands and questions sent her closer and closer to the edge until they got in a near screaming match, the day that she finally chose to tell Rachel. And before she left to tell Rachel, Santana found herself, feeling almost outside her own body with her anxiety, vomiting again for the first time in almost three months, unable to tell in that moment whether or not it was deliberate.

However Rachel might respond to this- crying, screaming, throwing things, total withdrawal, calling names, singing a very pointed song towards her in Glee, or giving her silent treatment…she would undoubtedly deserve it. She would hate it, hate seeing it, but she could handle it. The one thing she couldn't handle, the one thing she absolutely feared beyond all else would occur, was if Rachel decided to cut her out of her life entirely.

And this was what she dreaded to the point of feeling physically ill as she made her way to Rachel's house and waited to be let inside. She brushed past her fathers without hardly so much as nodding a greeting, almost steering Rachel up to her room without actually bringing herself to touch the other girl. She knew that she must look alarming to Rachel, as she hadn't bothered to change out of the t-shirt she had worn to bed the night before, simply putting on pants, and her hair was loose and probably in need of more careful brushing, her makeup minimal, eyes red from frequent crying. And if the girl offered her any sort of concern or sympathy right now because of it, if she tried to so much as touch her or say her name in a soft tone, Santana would just…it would be just one more thing she couldn't take right now. So she made herself look at Rachel, forcing her tone to be somewhat steady as she dived into business right away.

"We have to talk, Rachel. Right now while I….still can make myself."

Rachel was terrified.

Everything just felt… Bad. Everything felt bad. Santana was acting strange, and all Rachel could think was that something horrible had happened.

Were her parents okay? Had her grandmother done something? Did Santana have cancer? Was being sent to boarding school ten states away and was therefore breaking up with her?

A thousand terrible scenarios ran through her mind, and of course as Santana led her up to her room, her fears only got worse. As Santana spoke, telling her something about saying something while she still could, Rachel had never been more concerned for the girl in her life it felt like.

"San… San what's wrong…?" she asked gently, reaching forward to set her hand on the girl's shoulder, and her frown deepened when it was shrugged off. "Santana…? Please tell me what happened so that I can fix it… Or at least try? You've been crying. You're clearly very upset. Let me help, please?" pleaded the smaller girl, moving closer to her girlfriend.

Santana couldn't stand to look Rachel in the eyes. Not for even a second could she stand to see the girl's concern, the love and anxiety for her that was shining out so clearly in her eyes. She didn't deserve it, none of it, and seeing Rachel wanting to give it towards her only made her hate herself that much more for the truth of it all.

When Rachel tried to touch her, Santana backed away with an involuntary noise of protest, putting up both hands as though to ward her off. "No, don't touch me, please-" but the girl was moving closer to her, obviously wanting so much to comfort her, and it was wrong, just so wrong that Santana felt tears come to her eyes all over again.

She couldn't do this, how could she do this, how could she say this and take away that way that Rachel looked at her forever? But how could she let her look at her like that anymore either?

Putting her hands over her eyes, taking in several shallow breaths, Santana finally spoke, having to force herself to lower her hand and look somewhere in the direction of Rachel's eyes.

"Please don't…don't feel bad for me…I don't deserve it. Rachel…I…when I went with Brittany, to the mall…we…we kissed. No…I…I kissed her…she kissed me back but I kissed her first. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It will…it will never happen again, I promise, I didn't even mean, but….I'm so sorry. I…Rachel, I love you so much, I didn't…I love you with all of my fucked up, piece of shit heart, and that's why I'm so fucking sorry."

She could feel tears start to form and rubbed her eyes frantically, knowing full well she didn't deserve to cry. Waiting for Rachel's response, her stomach bottomed out; she felt as though she were spiraling down an endless dark tunnel, with no way of knowing when the bottom would finally come.

Rachel slowly sat down on her bed. She felt numb, and cold. So, so very cold… "You… _Why_?" Tears formed in her eyes, falling without her consent, and her voice cracked. "Santana.. I don't…" Then, brokenly, her shoulders sagged, and a heart-broken sob wracked her body as she stared at the girl in front of her helplessly.

"I don't—- I don't what else I can _do_," she finally got out. "I… I'm never going to be enough, am I?" The tears increased, blurring her vision, and she shook her head at herself, staring down at the floor, her hands shaking. "It'll always be Brittany. You'll love me, but never like her. I can't ever compete with that. Not— not with her. She-" Another sobbed tore through Rachel, and she slowly slid off the bed, curling up on her floor. "She'll always h-have you. And you're heart. Always. Even when—- Oh God Tina…"

She looked up at Santana, shaking her head. "Please leave, Santana… Just… I can't do this anymore… I can't. I've tried. I've tried so _hard_ to just trust that I'd be enough, that— that I could be your Brittany someone. But I'm _not_. I never— hic—- I never will be. Ever. And she's the one you—" Rachel couldn't finish, and she finally broke down completely, clutching her knees to chest.

She had been right all along… Santana would always go back to Brittany, no matter how much she claimed to love Rachel.

"I'm sorry," Santana whispered, her tone helpless, barely audible. "I'm sorry…it was just…I wanted to not grow up, and not have things change, and…and…"

It sounds so stupid, so weak and ridiculous, and above all, so immature to say that aloud now, truthful as it might be. How could she explain, how could Rachel ever understand that she had cheated on her because she wanted to stay a child?

As Rachel broke before her, beginning to cry, sobbing that she was not enough for her, that she would always love Brittany instead. It killed Santana to see; her entire body ached with genuine pain to watch Rachel's reaction, to know that it was she who had caused her such pain. Tears now streaming down her own cheeks, she stepped forward, one hand extended, but stopped short of touching her.

"Rachel, please…no. It's not…that's not true…I love you, I love you so much, I want you more than anything….but…I'm just stupid and…please, Rachel, tell me how to make this right. Please."

Shaking her head slowly, Rachel couldn't bring herself to look at Santana. Her words just sounded… empty. Not because she Santana sounded insincere, but because she had heard it over and over again, and Santana still drifted away from her. Because Rachel just… wasn't enough. Even if the other girl refused to admit it.

Finally, taking a shuddering breath, Rachel sniffled, pushing some of her hair out of her face and wiping at her tear-stained cheeks. "I—" she choked, breathing in hard again, trying to get the words out. "I need—- I need space. I just. I don't—" Another sob interrupted her, and it took a moment for her to be able to speak again. "I don't know— if I can keep d-doing this. It just—- It hurts so much, Santana."

Finally, Rachel managed to force herself to look at the cheerleader, and her eyes filled with tears all over again. "I hate not knowing i-if I can trust you. And— and I— I hate feeling like I just _can't_ be enough. I don't want to be scared of— of your friendship with Brittany. And I _hate _feel so— so _jealous_. So… We just… I need space. I don't know for how long. But… you can… You can s-see other people. Maybe… maybe we're just not… Maybe we're just not meant to happen. You know…?"

Her chest ached so bad, felt unbearably tight, as though there was a constant pressure pushing down on her ribs and her heart. And she felt sick. Dizzy almost.

The worst part is that she wanted to go back in time, pretend this had never happened, and just have Santana hold her. But that wasn't going to happen.

Maybe never again.

Santana sucked in an unsteady breath, one hand moving up unconsciously to press hard against her heart. She shook her head, tears still streaming, faintly at first, then harder, denying what Rachel is asking of her. She can't do this. Rachel can't mean this. She can't be asking her to leave, not really. She can't be telling her to see other people…no…

"No," she choked out, and she does grab for Rachel's hand now, a sob escaping her before she can choke it back. "No, I don't want to see other people. I don't want to leave. I want you. We are meant to happen. We are. I want you, Rachel. I'm sorry…please…"

Even she knows how hard it would be to trust her words and intentions. Even she knows that she cannot possibly seem truthful, though she means every word. How can she expect Rachel to really believe her?

Rachel clenched her eyes shut tightly as Santana took her hand, flashes of the significance of their hand-holding racing through her mind. It made her heart ache all the more, and slowly, so slowly, she withdrew her hand. Doing so felt like a stab in her gut, twice over, and she shook her head again. "Please, San," she begged, back to curling herself up tightly in a ball on her floor. "Please go. If you— if you love, then —- _Please_."

If Santana stayed, Rachel would give in. She knew it. She'd forgive Santana everything, push it back, an try to pretend that it never happened. And she couldn't do that to herself, or to Santana.

And honestly, Rachel wasn't sure what hurt the most anymore; letting Santana in, over and over again, only to get hurt… Or trying to finally let the girl go.

Santana wanted to stay. She wanted to fall at Rachel's feet and beg her to forgive her even more fervently, to kiss her all over and force her to let her hold her, to try to take away emotional pain with physical touch. She wanted to refuse to leave her no matter how much Rachel asked for it. She wanted to so badly, and she almost did.

But Rachel was telling her to go. Rachel was telling her if she loved her she would leave, and Santana did love her. She had to show Rachel this, show her that she did respect her wishes. So with extreme reluctance, shooting glances back at her over her shoulder, Santana left the room, whispering back one more time, "I love you. Please, please believe I love you."

She is crying so hard by the time she gets back to her car that she doesn't even attempt to drive for a good twenty minutes, and even when she does start she still has to pull over twice to catch her breath and recover enough to try again. By the time she gets home she only has time to distantly be grateful that her mother is working late that day as she heads straight to her room and throws herself into her bed, continuing to cry until she aches.

She is more than certain she's managed to ruin her life over this. What is her life without either her lover or her best friend?


	54. Chapter 54

Legs opening just a bit more, Rachel licks her lips, eyes focused more on Santana's own lips than anything else, save for the warm hand creeping up under her skirt.

"I believe that would be the best course of action, yes."

And not a second later she's leaning in, maneuvering herself to straddle Santana and kissing her fervently. She hadn't realized how badly she had missed the connection that physical closeness brought, but the kiss alone made her heart swell up and her stomach do flips.

This is all the encouragement Santana needs. Her hand splayed against Rachel's upper thigh, kneading lightly, she opens her mouth to kiss her, wet and somewhat sloppy with her desire. She gropes to cup Rachel's ass with her free hand, pulling her closer against her on her lap and groaning softly into the kiss. Months of lack of contact have her so revved up that she's already getting wet even at this small amount of contact in such brief time; it's almost embarrassing.

Rachel isn't doing much better, already feeling hot and ridiculously aroused. She HAD planned on going slow, but they had done slow before, and frankly, she was more than ready for some make-up sex. Panting, hands wrapping around to grasp at the material of Santana's shirt, Rachel gasps, "Are we— really going to—- mmnn- have sex on the couch?"

"Do you want to?" is Santana's breathless response in her ear just before she bites down on the lobe, nibbling and flicking her tongue over its shell. She is already easing her fingers beneath the band of Rachel's panties, arching her hips up towards her.

With a hiss and a pleased moan, Rachel does a mental check of the time. Her fathers left five minutes before Santana arrived; they had at least three hours before anyone would be home.

"God. Okay. Yes. Bed later, sex now," is Rachel's labored response, her hips already rolling down in search of Santana's fingers.

Two months without Santana? They may have been necessary, but God, so was this. Definitely this.

This clearly isn't going to be drawn out and in fact, doesn't need to involve removal of clothes at all in Santana's opinion. She again wastes no time, hasty to get straight to the "good" part. With one hand kneading Rachel's ass, first over, then under her panties, her other hand's fingers slowly stroke the outer area of Rachel's vagina, rubbing, kneading, before she inserts one finger inside, beginning to rub circles over her clitoris with light, then increasing pressure.

Rachel's head falls to Santana's shoulder, and she kisses and nips at any skin she can get her mouth on as she breathes heavily, hips canting down and forwards, hands fisting into Santana's shirt. She wasn't going to last long. Not at all. Even with only a single finger in her tight channel and Santana stroking over her clit she already felt her inner walls fluttering and pressure building up in the pit of her stomach.

"G- Ohgod— San—- Santana-"

Santana is breathing heavily herself, her breath stirring Rachel's hair as her finger moves faster, building friction within her. She moves her free hand to help brace Rachel, thoroughly enjoying the desperation in her voice.

It takes all of five more minutes, and Rachel is cumming, her body shaking and trembling against Santana as her muscles clamp down her and nails dig into her back. As the orgasm slowly subsides, Rachel pushes through the initial drowsiness, hands going to cup Santana's face as she kisses her hotly, before husking, "D-down. On the couch. I need my mouth on you."

Santana is already still pretty hot simply touching Rachel and being part of her getting off. She is slow to pull back from Rachel enough to lie down, but as she does so, opening her legs, she does have time to think she's grateful as hell she had chosen to wear a tight, short dress today. Not that most of her dresses don't meet this description.

Rachel knows she wants to be able to feel Santana, skin on skin, and just get used to her body again, revel in touching and being touched, but right now she has a single minded goal; get Santana Lopez off with nothing but her tongue. She settled between the girl's thighs as Santana lifted up her dress, and hummed in pleasure when she felt two hands on her head, guiding her down to where Santana wanted her. With a little work and maneuvering Santana's panties were off, Rachel's head was being pushed down, and, with a quiet moan, Rachel licked up the girl's wet slit, slowly.

Santana sucked in her breath sharply as Rachel's tongue made contact, and she lifted her hips slightly, feeling her back begin to arch. Eyes shutting tightly, she twines her fingers in Rachel's hair, exerting pressure to her head to push Rachel further against her.

Rachel moaned into Santana's center, teasing around the girl's outer lips for a bit, licking up the copious amounts of arousal, before turning her attention completely to getting Santana off. She thrust her tongue suddenly and sharply inside of Santana, humming against the girl and sending vibrations straight through her as she nuzzled and angled her head a little more for better access.

Santana practically screams out loud in response to Rachel, her outcry hoarse and throaty but not lacking in volume. Head thrown all the way back, her hips buck forward sharply, and she cums two minutes later with a shudder that runs through her from core downward, leaving her chest heaving, thigh muscles shaking.

Taking her time to clean Santana up, Rachel doesn't come up until Santana has completely ridden out her orgasm, licking up every drop of release that she can. Finally, she scoots up, settling herself on top of Santana, her head on her chest. Despite the fact that it had, essentially, been a quick fuck, Rachel felt rather content and sated. They had gotten some of the pent up hormones out, and later Rachel was sure that it would be a lot slower. For now, she was happy.

"This… was honestly a lot less dramatic than I expected. …I think we're getting better at this being in love thing."

Santana is still getting herself back together somewhat as Rachel settles over her chest, but she isnt' too dazed to wrap her arms around Rachel, hugging her close against her. One hand on Rachel's head, she lazily strokes her hair.

"So…you're still in love with me?"

Nodding, Rachel closes her eyes and breathes out.

"Yes… That never stopped, you know. Things wouldn't hurt as much as they do sometimes if I wasn't so head over heels for you, Santana Lopez… And I certainly wouldn't have gone to bed every night imagining your arms around me."

A soft smile curves Santana's lips, and she tightens her arms around Rachel, kissing the top of her head.

"Did you imagine other things?"

Snorting, playfully slapping Santana's shoulder, Rachel smiles back.

"I did, actually. Things such as… you cooking me dinner. Or… giving me a piggyback ride to classes. You know, normal things," the smaller girl teased.

"Cooking you dinner? Now that definitely is imagination," Santana teases back, poking the side of Rachel's head. "You calling me abnormal now? Well join the club 'cause I'm pretty sure you're the one who just made me scream.

Rachel giggles, nipping at the finger poking her head. "It's a talent, what can I say?"

Santana grabs Rachel's hand, biting her fingers back playfully. "You can say a lot. Should I give instructions?"

"On what to say, or…" Rachel kisses Santana's jawline, "how to make you cum? Hm… I do /love/ when you… instruct me in the bedroom."

"This is such an invitation," Santana smirks, arching her neck to give Rachel greater access as her hand drifted lower down her back. "And it's not even engraved in gold and delivered with a star stamp."

"I'm sure I have a gold star somewhere." Rachel nuzzles Santana's neck, slowly starting to rock her hips against Santana's pelvis. "Should I stop and get one for you?"

"Stop is not a word that should ever be in your vocabulary," Santana breathed.

She started to sit up as much as she could while still having Rachel over her, attempting to readjust so her legs are wrapped around Rachel's waist. Rachel shifts as well, so that they're both more comfortable, continuing to hump against Santana as she kisses her, both hands massaging Santana's breasts as Rachel moves to nibble at Santana's ear lobe, then down to her neck before going back to her lips once more. Santana moves with Rachel, grinding herself against her, her nipples hardening at Rachel's attentions. Her own hands are roaming everywhere they can grasp on the other girl, over her arms and breasts and down her sides and back and thighs, unable to get enough of touching her.

Shifting enough so that she's pressed against Santana's thigh, with her own thigh against Santana, Rachel's hips move harder and faster, more desperately, and before long she can't even keep up the kisses. She clings tightly to Santana, thrusting her hips down against the muscular thigh between her legs and pushing her thigh hard against Santana's clit as much as she can.

"A-after—- I want— the bed. You. To- to take me. Harder, and longer. I want to feel you when— oh— I wake up tomorrow. All day."

Santana rides her out, barely hearing or paying attention to Rachel's words, but her tone is definitely further arousing her. With each hit against her clit from Rachel's thigh the pressure within her is building, and it takes her even less time now than before to release. She can feel her dampness soaking Rachel's thigh as she pants into her neck, occasionally sucking and nipping at the skin there even as she is trying to catch her breath.

"F-fuck…"

Santana biting and sucking at her neck sends Rachel over the edge again. Her thrusting becomes sloppy, already sensitive clit and pussy throbbing as she cums, faster but stronger than before. Her muscles give out then, and she collapses half on top of Santana, panting and moaning breathlessly as she feels Santana's thigh muscles twitch and jerk against her soaked panties and over-stimulated clit.

Santana's hand is splayed over the small of Rachel's back, her thumb rubbing slowly over her spine just above it. She kisses Rachel's neck again, inhaling slowly.

"You smell…like you…"

Rachel giggles, sighing deeply. "Mmmm… you, too… Missed you… We should… probably go upstairs now. Small nap, and then…" She scoots up just enough to whisper into Santana's ear, "My body is yours for the taking for the next 2 and a half hours."

"Now…don't wait."

But Santana's muscles are still quivering, and she doesn't possess the coordination or energy to stand, let alone go upstairs. When she attempts to get up she ends up slumping back, locking her arms around Rachel and pulling her back with her.

With a grunt, Rachel gives in, not having the motivation or strength to move any more than Santana does.

"Okay… nap here. Just…"

Stretching out her arm weakly, Rachel barely manages to pick up her phone off the floor, and she quickly set an alarm for thirty minutes. With that done, she collapses back against Santana, nuzzling into her chest with a small smile on her face.

"Mmmn… And I really missed my favorite boob pillow."

"Mmm."

Santana had very much missed having Rachel use her as a pillow. She had missed the warm, solid weight of Rachel's body against hers, the tickle of her hair against her skin, her heartbeat over hers and her breath beginning to fall into rhythm with hers. She had missed so damn much, and as she holds her close to herself, her breathing beginning to even out, she is still smiling, even as she whispers back to her.

"I missed you so damn much. I knew you'd have to give in."

Laughing tiredly, snuggling more into Santana as much as she physically can, Rachel hums in agreement.

"You're irresistible, Santana Lopez… And… I'm glad you never gave up on me… even when I was giving up on myself, and us.. I love you. I love you so much."

Santana closes her eyes, hiding her smile in Rachel's shoulder as she nods against her, completely relaxing. "I love you too."

88

Going over to Santana's was something Brittany always loved, maybe not so much now that Santana's abuela was crazy, but when Santana suggested she come over and they do each other's hair she couldn't pass it up. It would also be the first time the two of them actually hung out since the kiss, Brittany wasn't worried though- except for maybe when she thought about Tina. She hoped Tina would be okay with it, but she wasn't entirely sure she would be.

Brittany hollered that she was leaving at whoever it was that was in the kitchen as she grabbed the keys to her car and left the house. On her way to Santana she's blared the music on the radio. There was one thing Brittany did not love about going to Santana's and that was going into Lima Heights. It was different there, it gave her a weird feeling in her stomach every single time, but always felt better when she was at least a block away from Santana's.

She pulled up in front of Santana's house, quickly glancing around before she got out and power walked up to the front door. Brittany knocked several times, then kicked the tip of her shoe on the concrete and hummed as she waited for someone who hopefully wouldn't be Santana's abuela to open the door.

It was Maribel Lopez who answered the door, and she blinks, somewhat surprised, to see Brittany standing there. Santana's mother has grown accustomed lately to no one coming to the house, since Rachel has broken up with Santana and since Santana has come out and chosen instead to go to others' homes. She recovers quickly though, smiling at her and stepping back for her to come in.

"Brittany, I have not seen you in some time, how are you?"

Santana comes up quickly then, taking hold of Brittany's arm and attempting to steer her away. "She's leaving Mami. We'll be in my room okay?" To Brittany she mutters, "Please don't encourage her, she talks way too much and you know it."

When Brittany saw the bottom of the door open, she brought her head up and smiled at the small lady standing in front of her. It'd been a while since Brittany had even ran into the woman who at one time had practically been her second mother.

"Hey, Mrs. Lopez. I'm good, thanks. How are you?"

Santana's hand on her arm took Brittany a bit by surprise, but she knew she wouldn't her to stand there and talk to her mother for the whole evening. "I like talking to your mom and it's your fault, you didn't answer the door, if you would've we wouldn't even be having this conversation."

"I'm doing well," Maribel reached out to pat her shoulder, still smiling at her. "You and your outfits, always so interesting and bright. This one here is more along the lines of dark and tight," She rolls her eyes at Santana, who rolls her eyes right back at her.

"Come onnn," Santana whined, pulling Brittany with her down the hallway. "You know how she talks your ear off if you let her."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it." She smiled, quickly glancing at the hand on her shoulder, then over at Santana who obviously didn't want her talking. "I think Santana looks good in those types of things." Brittany shrugged her shoulders.

Brittany smiled at Santana whining and followed behind her. "I know, but I really don't mind. Your mom is funny and she tells me hilarious things about baby Santana."

"Oh, she does, and she certainly knows it," Maribel rolls her eyes even as she smiles at her daughter. "A little too good sometimes."

"Don't be a stranger, Brittany," she calls as Santana drags her away, and Santana hastens her into her room, groaning when Brittany mentions "baby Santana stories." "What did she tell you last? I'm gonna kill her."

Brittany smiled at Maribel, softly nodding as she listened to her, but keeping her attention on how annoyed Santana seemed to be.

"I won't be." She looked back at Santana's mother for a moment. Brittany thought for a second when Santana asked her about the stories, it'd been so long that she honestly couldn't remember. "She just tells me some of the cute things you did, nothing too embarrassing." She shrugged.

"I didn't cut my hair into a crew cut on purpose, I thought I could make cool zigzag shapes!" Santana said defensively, rolling her eyes. As they went into her bedroom, she shut the door deliberately behind her. "And I only put my underwear on backward that ONE TIME, anyone could have made the mistake of thinking she brought the wrong size."

Brittany began laughing at the things Santana was telling her, not to be mean but it was funny. "You had a crew cut? Your mom never told me those things! Why didn't she tell me that?" She plopped back onto Santana's bed, still smiling up at her friend. "I shouldn't laugh, I'm sorry."

Santana groaned, burying her face in her hands half playfully, half sincerely embarrassed." Because she was probably too busy telling you about the time I made fun of the black dude at the counter and mocked the way he said double chili cheeseburger and then broke out into a Ludicrous song complete with gangsta symbols when I was six or something like that too."

She lifted her head, rolling her eyes at Brittany. "Tell me stories about baby Brittany and then we're even."

"You didn't!" She laughed as she laid back on Santana's bed. "Your mom didn't tell me that either, you should probably stop talking before you tell me every single embarrassing thing you ever did in your time as baby Santana."

Brittany thought for a moment, before snapping her fingers. "One time, we were at a restaurant, like a really nice one, and I crawled up on the table and pretended to be a dog. Loud barking, eating with no hands, pretending to pee- full on dog. And I was good at it too, no one else thought so, but you'll probably never see a better human dog than I was."

Santana broke out laughing at this, her eyes almost closing with the wideness of her smile. She propped herself up on her chin, turning to face Brittany. "I wish I had seen that. I would have joined you…I could have been a cat."

She reaches out and strokes her fingers through Brittany's hair affectionately, as though she is petting a dog now.

"I too wish you could've been there, it would've been so much more fun if you would've been there, but you would've had to be a dog too- cats and dogs, they don't get along and we get along just perfectly. Most of the time." She softly shrugged.

When Santana started petting her hair, Brittany looked over at her still smiling. She missed this with Santana, how comfortable it used to be, before everything go complicated.

"There are weird cats that like dogs," Santana shrugged, still running her fingers through Brittany's hair. "Actually cats don't like anyone, even other cats…except a few they choose. So that's me. I'm a cat."

She twirls a strand of Brittany's hair, then starts to braid it absently. "How do you want your hair?"

"It actually kind of makes sense. Is that why Lord Tubbington and you don't get along, because you're both cats who get irritated very easily and don't really like anyone except for me?" Brittany asked, grinning at her best friend.

Brittany thought for a moment. "Do whatever you want, just make me look extremely pretty."

"Must be it. Also, he tries to eat my shoelaces and my gel pens," Santana smiled too, moving to sit behind Brittany on the bed. As she undoes the braid, beginning to smooth her fingers through Brittany's hair again to finger comb out any tangles, she replies to her, "I don't have to do anything at all then since you already are."

She gets up, coming back with a handful of various hair accessories, and begins to twist sections of Brittany's hair and pin it with bobby pins to make a complicated updo.

He only does that kind of stuff out of love, he just wants you to like him, but it doesn't work." Brittany sat up, leaning her head back and pushing all her hair behind her shoulders so her hair was easier for Santana to access. "Santana _Lopez,_ you took the words right out of my mouth.

Brittany watched as Santana came back with hair stuff. "Do I look super beyond pretty yet?" She asked right after Santana began fixing her hair.

"He hates me," Santana repeats with conviction, shrugging. "He tried to sneak kitty litter into my drink once, it was horrible. I was gagging on grit for days."

"What words?" she plays innocent, still smiling as she continues to twist and pin Brittany's hair. "You're already super beyond pretty. I can't do anything to improve on what's already awesome."

"No he doesn't. Maybe he was trying to… well I don't know what he was trying to do, but I'm sure I could find out. I'm also sure he didn't mean any harm, kitty litter is non-toxic. He wants you to love him, he just has a weird way of showing it." She turned her head for a moment, looking back at Santana before looking forward and leaning her head back again.

Brittany playfully rolled her eyes and smiled. "I know, but I want you to me make look prettier than I already am, it may be a hard task, but I believe in you." She reached her hand back and patted Santana's leg.

"Right, I'll remember that next time he claws out handfuls of my hair when I sit too close to his candy bars," Santana rolled her eyes again, smirking. "Hold your head still, Britt."

She smiles as Brittany pats her, nudging her with her knee as she works on her hair. Finally she pats the result lightly, pleased. "Voila Madame Stunning. Check you out."

"That's like rule number one- you don't get near his candy. You should know that by now." She groaned when Santana told her to keep her head still. "I can't, it's pretty much impossible. My head has it's own mind, it does what it wants."

She feels Santana softly touch her hair and smiles excitedly ready to see what her hair looks like. "Is that Spanish for something? You know I don't speak Spanish." She hopped off Santana's bed walking over to the mirror, her smile grew when she saw her hair. "A+ Miss Lopez!"

"Fatso feline," Santana smirked. "That's French, Britt."

She smiles as she watches Brittany look at her hair, taking a mock bow. "My talented hands are work again. Then again what part of me isn't amazing."

"Be nice, Santana!" She playfully shoved Santana. "Is it? How do you even know French?"

Brittany softly clapped her hands as Santana took a bow. "Your taste in women. Speaking of, how are things going with Rachel?" She asked sitting behind Santana so she could do her hair. "What do you want done?"

"I'm smart like that," Santana smiled, nudging her back. Moving to sit up in front of Brittany, she crosses her legs, leaning her head back, anticipating. "Anything…just play with it."

She smiles widely when Brittany mentions Rachel, briefly ducking her head. "It's going awesome. She took me back and she's being actually normal."

Brittany made a slightly disgusted face as Santana spoke about Rachel and began separating Santana's hair into sections. "Are we talking normal normal or like, Rachel normal because there's a difference. Like a huge difference."

"You realize you're probably going to die from hanging out with me," Brittany informed her. She knew that more than likely Tina wouldn't be very happy about her hanging out with Santana either.

"Well, none of us are normal," Santana points out, shrugging. "So I guess Rachel normal."

She closed her eyes briefly, enjoying Brittany's fingers in her hair. Eyes still closed, she holds up her hand as though to counter her. "I will not die. She knows I'm here. She knows nothing is ever going to happen with us again, ever."

"Some of us are more normal than others." She widened her eyes, continuing on Santana's hair. "I'm just going to ask it, what do you even see in _Rachel Berry_? Of all people in McKinley or Lima- the world, why that?"

Brittany stopped braiding for a moment, when Santana held her hand up. "You're dating the biggest diva with the worst attitude, it doesn't matter what she says, she's still going to make you pay later. And who knows what Tina will think."

Santana's shoulders stiffened, and she clinches her jaw, her voice growing defensive fast. "What do you see in Tina? Huh? No, don't even answer it, I might puke."

She tenses further when Brittany stops braiding her hair, turning her head to look back at her. "She does not have the worst attitude. She knows we're friends. She knows I love her and I'll never hurt her again. As for Tina? I don't care what Tina thinks."

"Stop getting so mad, it's just a question." Brittany sighed heavily, then smiled. "Too late, you already asked. Tina is probably one of the greatest most amazing people I've ever met. She's smart, beautiful, caring and funny. I could be having the worst day ever and Tina makes it all okay. Oh and she's really good in bed, so. But when I'm with her I feel like I'm walking on clouds, I'm a happy gal."

Brittany closed her eyes and shook her head for a moment. "She kind of does, especially in glee club, I guess I don't know much about her outside of there, but glee club Rachel is what makes me not want to get to know her outside of there. So, if Rachel came up to you tomorrow and said 'Santana, I want you to stop hanging out with Brittany', you'd just tell her to live with it?"

Santana's face is becoming something of a thunder cloud as she listens, though she tries not to show it. It's still made clear in her posture even as she keeps her face averted….especially when she says about her being good in bed. "You've had SEX with her?"

"She does not," she says in response to her words about Rachel. "She's different out of Glee. Seriously. You'd have to see and you won't since you ditched her last time you said you would. And she wouldn't ask me that."

Brittany crinkled her nose at Santana's question and nodded. "Uh, yeah, since Valentine's Day. Is it really that shocking? She's my girlfriend and stays the night at my house more than she stays the night at her own house, so how you didn't catch on…"

"That's because I didn't want to be seen in a public place with her, plus I don't exactly see you going out of your way to get to know Tina. Wasn't that part of our deal- you get to know Tina and I'd get to know Rachel? How do you know she wouldn't?" She started braiding Santana's hair again, her arms getting tired from just holding it.

Santana is silent for several minutes as Brittany braids her hair, barely feeling her fingers, still glaring down towards her lap. She doesn't want to think of Brittany having sex with anyone, let alone Tina, and she clinches and unclinches her hands in her lap, digging her nails into her palms before she responds.

"You should have done what you promised, Britt. I never promised I'd get to know Tina. I know her already. I just said I'd stop being as mean."

Brittany finishes Santana's braid in silence, wrapping a hair tie around the end of her hair, slapping her hands down on her legs. "Done. Go see how pretty you look." She pointed over at the mirror.

"I almost did, I should get credit for even considering getting together with her. _Yes,_ you did, Santana, I told you that if you got to know Tina and stop being so mean I'd do the same. I've gotten further into that promise than you have." Brittany leaned back on the bed, propping herself up with her forearms.

"I was sort of nice to Tina. I haven't talked to her. That's like, super nice," Santana countered, exhaling and rolling her eyes upward. She takes her time walking to the mirror and glances at herself, nodding but not really paying much attention before turning back to her.

"What are you doing for prom?"

"That's not being nice, that's ignoring her. Exactly what I do to Rachel." She rested her head on her own shoulder. "I'll talk to Rachel, okay? I'll get together with her if _she_ wants to, but you have to do the same with Tina."

Brittany chewed on her lip and shrugged. "I have no clue, I don't even know if Tina would want to go with me or not. What about you, what are you going to do?"

"Ignoring is nice," Santana muttered. "It is. It's way nicer than calling names and drawing dirty pictures."

She has no idea if Rachel wants to get together with Brittany and expects she doesn't, just like she expects Tina doesn't want to get together with her. She doesn't say so though.

"Take her to prom, if she'll let me," she responds, fiddling with her braid absently. "I'll make her let me."

"Whatever, then we'll just live the rest of our lives hating each others girlfriends. We'll never be able to go out on double dates or anything super awesome like that." She sat back up when Santana mentioned dirty pictures. "Wait, did you draw dirty pictures of Tina? Did you make her look hot?"

"You can't _make_ someone go to prom with you, Santana."

"You hate Rachel?" Santana narrows her eyes at Brittany, bothered. "WHY?"

She looks away, shrugging, as Brittany asks about the pictures. "I did. I did NOT make her look hot. Not possible."

"Yes I can make her. Or influence her strongly to say yes."

"Santana," Brittany sighed running her hand down her face. "I've hated her since as long as I can remember- we hated her together at one point. That was like our hobby."

She tilted her head, smiling. "It's very possible. And why are you even thinking of her naked, _Santana_."

"If you need it, I can always help you." Brittany quickly shrugged, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

Santana can now barely remember let alone comprehend a time where she hated Rachel. She blinks at Brittany, attempting to recall, and then shrugs, dismissing. "Well we shouldn't have."

She flushes at Brittany's pointed look, immediately holding up both hands defensively. "I wasn't like for real! It was mocking her! Efforts to ruin her life and self-esteem!"

She looks up at Brittany through her eyelashes, skeptical. "How will you help me if you hate her?"

"We did the same the same thing to Tina- not as bad as what we did to Rachel- we shouldn't have done that either." She told Santana, shaking her head, slowly getting aggravated with this conversation.

Brittany's smile faded completely away and she rolled her eyes. "I'd much rather you think of her naked than that."

"I love you and you're my best friend, so even if I strongly dislike your girlfriend, I'll still help you if you need it." She shrugged again.

Santana can see Brittany's irritation with her, but she can't say that it bothers her much in the moment. She's still somewhat sulking over having heard Brittany confirm that she hates Rachel and has slept with Tina as she crosses her arms over her chest.

Hearing Brittany confirm that she loves her and is her best friend, Santana is nevertheless somewhat bothered. She's heard and seen Brittany profess love for Tina so many times by now that she is still somewhat insecure about whether Brittany still loves her, or whether she's her favorite. She knows it's not like that between them and never will be; she loves Rachel and has finally earned her back, and Brittany loves Tina inexplicably. But after their kiss things have been kind of weird, and it bothers her to think that maybe Tina has crept beyond her place in Brittany's life. She is quiet as she plays with the end of her braid.

88

Texts

**Santana: *sends a scantily clad pictures of herself*  
Rachel:**Stttaaaahhppp!·

**Rachel:**Teasing is rude, Santana Lopez.

·**Santana:**Who says I'm teasing?·

**Rachel:**You're purposefully making me blush. That's teasing.

·**Santana:**You love it.·

**Santana:**I can certainly clothe myself in a burka if it turns out you don't though.**  
Rachel:**[receives picture]

**Rachel:**H-how- Where even-

**Rachel:**Exactly how many bikinis do you own?

**Santana:**Eighteen. You?

**Santana:**You can take pictures of each to prove it. Or I can ;)·

**Rachel:**I have three bikinis. And only one is even remotely as... revealing as your own.

**Rachel:**I would not, however, be opposed to a private pool party when the weather warms up.

**Santana:**We obviously need to take you shopping. And I must be present in the dressing room for each.

**Santana:**Uh, "not opposed" is a mild description of my thoughts.**  
Rachel:**Santana, you're not coming in the dressing room with me. We both know what could happen, given your inability to control your hands around me.

**Santana:**and that would be bad because...**  
Rachel:**I feel as though you've been watching too many pornographies, Santana...

**Santana:**how many is "too many?"**  
Rachel:**Enough that you forget that it's incredibly easy to get caught having sex in a dressing room and that it's very, very illegal...

**Santana:**so we stay quiet, I can bring a gag ;)**  
Rachel:**If I promise to let you have your way with me, plus gag, AFTER the shopping trip, can we please avoid public sex?

**Santana:**...

**Santana:**Is that a serious yes to the gag

**Santana:**yes yes yes yes

Santana: We are going prom shopping today. Come.

Rachel: What? Now? Already? Am I meeting you?

Rachel: Nevermind. I see you are outside my house. I'll be down in 2 minutes =)

Santana: I'm waiting. Counting the seconds. Literally. So far it has been 34.

Rachel: You're ridiculous.

Santana: Name calling is bullying and bullying is rude :p

Santana: ...whatttt no. You're not allowed. I'll barge. And stalk. And badger. I may even resort to whining.

Rachel: I'll distract you with kisses and the new Victoria's Secret underwear I bought the other day. ;)

Santana: hmmm

Santana: no. I'm not that easy. Nope.

Rachel: But it's black lace... I even have a matching bra. And that garter belt you want me to buy but I said I'd look silly.

Rachel: In case you were wondering, I don't silly at all ;)

Santana: ...

Santana: You fight dirty.

Santana: No. No, I can still see allll of that while watching you pick a prom dress.

Rachel: Nope. Already changed. You only get to see more of that if you promise to wait to see my prom dress. I'll try them on today of course, but you won't know the final decision until prom night :)

Santana: ….you suck. You suck so hard. When did you become a badass ?When did you become an EVIL badass?

Rachel: You taught me well 3

Santana: ughhhh you SUCK. Hurry up and come down here.


	55. Chapter 55

Santana is practically squirming in the driver's seat as she waits for Rachel to emerge from her house. She had already had visions of watching Rachel strip tease in waiting rooms as she shops for prom dresses and giving her some teasing herself, if not outright pleasuring, even though trying on clothes is not one of her favorite things to do. Shopping, yes, showing off how hot she looks once they're bought, sure, but actually going through the process of trying them on and possibly not fitting in the smallest available size has never been something she's enjoyed. But with the prospect of doing this with Rachel, she had actually been looking forward to it. She honks the horn, waiting impatiently.

Rachel skips out the door, purse in hand and a smile on her face. She waves at Santana as she makes her way to the car, and slides in, immediately leaning over to plan a kiss on her girlfriend's cheek.

"Hello, beautiful," she says as she closes the door and leans back into the seat to buckle up. "I take it you approved my the picture I sent you, yes?"

In truth, Rachel is definitely a little smug. Teasing Santana has become one of her favorite things to do, if only because she knows that Santana will get her back for it later in all the best ways.

Santana attempts to scowl at her, arms crossed over her chest, but she can't resist smiling by the time Rachel has settled beside her.

"No. I would only approve if it was an entire album."

As she starts to drive towards the mall, she starts to count out rules aloud to Rachel, to annoy her more so than because she believes in them.

"No puffy dresses. No dresses so long you'll trip over them. No pastel dresses that look like they belong on a five year old, and no Gothic fantasy Tina-esque dresses that make you look like Maleficent. Also no dresses with animals on them."

Rachel frowns, though takes Santana's right hand in hers and rolls her eyes.

"_/Yes/_ to the puffy dresses. They're pretty and I feel like a princess. Also, some pastels look very nice. Especially with my skin tone," she insists, her frown turning a small pout.

Because she's left-handed, Santana easily drives with her hand in Rachel's, giving it a faint squeeze even as she continues to argue and tease.

"Nope. Princesses can be slinky and sexy too, you know. Don't you remember the mermaid chick? If it belongs on an easter egg it doesn't belong on you."

Rachel huffs. "I am a Cinderella, not an Ariel. 'Poofy' dresses can be perfectly sexy, and I look completely adorable in them. /Besides/, we both know I'll only have it on long enough for the dance."

She thought for a moment, then, "What if I promise that there will be a reasonable amount of cleavage. AND I wear those lacy underwear and the bra under it? It can be like unwrapping a Christmas present or something."

Santana considers this, tilting her head slightly and rather dangerously swerving as she takes her eyes off the road.

"How will I know you followed that if I can't see what dress you picked, huh? Also, I plan to tell YOU which dress I pick so therefore your argument here is based on unfairness and inequality and that means it's not a deal because we are equals in this relationship."

She smirks, thinking it's possible she confused or guilted her enough to get her way.

Rachel licks her lip, staring intently at Santana as she tries to work out another course of action.

"Hm... Alright, how about this. You help me pick the top three dresses, and I'll choose from those /on my own/. ALSO, we'll go to Victoria's Secret, and you can pick out /exactly/ what I wear under the dress during prom."

Santana ponders this option and can find no fault with it. In fact, it works out way more in her favor than her original proposal. Still, she feigns great reluctance as she nods.

"Okay. I guess so."

Well Santana is definitely getting a lesson out of this and taking it to heart. If she pouts and fusses some about Rachel getting her way, not only will she sort of, kind of end up getting her way, she also gets many incentives added to it. Awesome. She can't help but grin at the thought even as she tries to casually shrug. "Whatever."

"You can't fool me. I know you're thrilled about getting to dress me up in sexy underwear for half the day," Rachel says.

Not that it matters if Santana admits to it or not. Rachel likes to think she's gained a pretty good understanding of the girl in the last several months, after all. Besides, "I can see your dimples. You're trying not to smile or laugh."

As if to prove this, she uses her free hand to poke gently at Santana's cheek. "Come on. Turn that frown upside."

Santana mimes biting Rachel's finger, but she does laugh despite her effort not to, then smiles at her, rolling her eyes.

"You only saw them because you dug a hole into my cheek jabbing it like that." As she pulls into the mall parking lot, she reaches to poke Rachel's nose gently.

Rachel giggles, but doesn't deny anything. As soon as they're out of the car she's taking Santana's hand again, swinging it gently back and forth between them.

"I still made you smile, so I still win," she insists.

"Nope, I win. I always win," Santana pokes her again with her free hand. Overdramatically batting her eyelashes at her and pressing her hand against her chest, she breathes, "I ALWAYS win, if I can have you on my arm for the world to be jealous of."

She's being playful, but she does mean it too, even if her tone says otherwise.

Rachel blushes, giggling again and pressing her body into Santana's shoulder, head partially laying on it.

"You're ridiculous, but I love you," she says back as they enter the mall.

It's fairly busy, with other people out and about, especially for prom shopping. But Rachel's focus is almost entirely on her girlfriend.

"So, tell me. What colors do you plan to wear? We have to coordinate."

Santana's response is automatic and immediate, because after all, she rarely switches up her favorite colors. "Red or black. No coordination necessary since you aren't doing pastels which means all bold colors go."

Rachel laughs, shaking her head. "I said I /might/ do pastels. As in, I wanted to have the option. But you do look absolutely stunning in red, it's true." And then, leaning up a little to speak lower, "Will you be wearing a matching set underneath?"

"But I get final choice of three and it won't be pastels," Santana assured her. As Rachel asked her question, Santana grinned, raising her eyebrows. "You'll have to figure that one out on your own."

She steers her into the first department store she sees, heading straight towards the fancy dress section.

Sticking her tongue out at Santana, Rachel's attention is quickly diverted to the dresses. She immediately goes to the 'princess' dresses, and spots a cyan blue one with bedazzled embroidery.

"This one is so pretty!" she exclaims.

Santana goes over to her, eyeing critically. "Looks like a Quinn choice. Your hair is too dark for it. Next!"

Rachel rolls her eyes, but her smile remains.

"What about this one?" she then says, showing Santana a purple dress with silver embroidery.

Santana looks it up and down, giving a shrug. "Color is okay, too poofy and not enough cleavage. Only if you cut off some of it and had a huge push up bra."

Rachel huffs again, but gives in, going back to looking through the dresses. "Alright... How about this?"

Santana looks it up and down, then nods approval.

"Color is good, it's slim fitting, and cleavage. Score. Try it on." She hasn't actually done much looking for herself yet, too caught up in Rachel's choices.

Clapping her hands, Rachel grabs the dress, then calls back "I expect you to have a dress to try on as well, Santana!" before entering into the nearest open fitting room and dressing down. She's almost positive the dress will fit right, but she also knows that her petite size means she needs to double check.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing, I'm obviously supposed to be going in there to...assist," Santana protests, following her into the main area of the fitting room. "Which stall are you in?" She starts peeking at the feet underneath, looking for Rachel's shoes.

"You need to pick a dress, Santana!" the girl calls back, already getting into the dress she's picked out.

It's a more intense pink than she's used to, but it looks alright on her skin and with her hair. The fit is also different, but not bad. Overall, she likes it.

"Bossy, bossy," Santana rolls her eyes, but she gives up on her desired strip show for the moment, going to the racks to inspect.

She chooses a red beaded dress with one shoulder and a very snug fit, taking a few seconds to ponder the smallest 3 sizes with some discomfort, not liking that she's even considering getting any sizes other than the very smallest to try, but knowing in all practicality that it may not fit. She goes into the stall to change, calling out to Rachel, "I see how it is, you're just not helpful at all. I might be stuck in here all by myself with no one to help me and you'd be all antisocial."

Laughing, Rachel replies, "I'm ready when you are, dear."

She steps out of her dressing room, twirling a little in the mirror on the wall. "I like it. But I'm not /in love/ with it."

"No, you're IN LOVE with me," Santana replied through the wall as she tried on the largest of the three sizes first.

Relieved to see that it was too big, she breathed out a sigh of relief and tried on the second smallest, again relieved to see that it was slightly large in the waist as well. As she slipped into the last size and stepped outside, she doesn't much care what it looks like on her; she's just glad that it fits, having been slightly paranoid over that.

She turns slowly for Rachel, arms above her head, and shimmies. "I see cleavage! On the list!"

"'Tana, that can't be the ONLY requirement here." But Rachel is more occupied with looking her girlfriend up and down, and she licks her lip slowly. "I like it. ...It's... weirdly sparkly for you, but it definitely... accentuates your gorgeous self."

"It's a huge contender of a requirement," Santana shrugs, eyes still on Rachel's chest as she grins back at her. She finally tears them away to turn again, then grabs her hand, walking with her to the rack and immediately vetoing her next choice.

"Too pale and weird puffs." Choosing a red prom dress which is two pieces- midriff bearing, a sparkly red bikini top with a tight red skirt with huge slits, Santana holds it up. "This would definitely get some attention."

"Oh Lord. Absolutely not. They wouldn't even let you through the doors."

Putting the first dress away, though writing down the name and design number for future online looking, Rachel flicks through the racks once again. "Oh! What about this?" she asks, pulling out a dress with an almost bikini like top and a loop, showing off a little more cleavage than she's used to.

"Yes they would. All I'd have to do is drop a lipstick and bend over, and they'd be too hypnotized to say no," Santana argues.

However she is distracted quickly by the dress Rachel holds up for her inspection. "Yes. This. Yours." She is especially eyeing its room for ample cleavage.

Rachel snorts a little, but writes down the name and designer as well, taking note of it before putting it back on the rack. "At this rate all /I'd/ have to do is bend over a little and you'd let me get anything I wanted."

"Are you offering?" is her immediate response, her lips quirking as she deliberately drifts her eyes to Rachel's backside.

Another snort. "Only in your dreams, sweetie," she replies, though turning around purposefully, as though to check a tag on a dress, and bending down a bit more than needed.

Santana's eyes follow her every move. Only when Rachel straightens again does it strike her how incredibly whipped the girl is making her act like, and she groans aloud, shaking her head.

"Freaking magician, you munchkin. Why and how do you do this to me?"

She picks up another red dress, this one close fitting with a scooped neck and floaty sashlike embellishments.

Rachel turns back to Santana, giggling and giving a one shoulder shrug.

"Like I said, I've learned from the best. You've taught me all of the best tips and tricks for wrapping you around my pinky."

She continues looking at dresses, then looks to Santana when she speaks, and Rachel bites her lower lip. "You... should definitely try that one on. Would you be okay with all that extra fabric though with the sash?"

Santana shrugs. "It might get annoying. Looks cool though." Noticing her bite her lip, she raises an eyebrow. "What?"

Slightly flushed, Rachel looks away with a small smile. "Nothing, dear. Oh-! This one," she exclaims, holding up another, somewhat pale pink dress. It doesn't have as much cleavage, but is a haltertop nonetheless, somewhat form fitting, slim, with a bedazzled top and neck strap.

Seeing that Santana has gotten the wrong idea, Rachel puts the dress back in the rack, smiling as she walks up to Santana and wraps her arms around the taller girl's neck. She kisses her softly on the lips, then whispers in her ear, "Stop frowning... Picturing you in that dress, completely slaying it, turned me on a little. Picturing you in anything and making all of McKinley High your 'bitch' always turns me on."

Santana shrugs. "It's okay. Not the best."

She is still eyeing Rachel, wondering about her lip biting.

"No, what."

As Rachel hugs her, then kisses her, she smiles slightly, relaxing, and kisses her back. "Oh...right."

She kisses her again, then whispers, "Are you my bitch, or am I yours?"

Rachel laughs, face flush and she rolls her eyes a little. "Outside of the bedroom? You're definitely mine."

She slaps Santana's ass lightly then, quickly scurrying away to the other dress racks before Santana can get her back.

"Bullshit!" Santana chases after her, heedless of anyone watching even as she knocks several dresses off the racks in her pursuit. Grabbing Rachel around the waist, she presses her body close, breathing her words near her face.

"Take it back."

Smiling, trying to subdue the smile a little bit though unable to, Rachel wraps her arms around Santana's neck, looking up at her, and licks her upper lip slowly.

"Mmm... Nope. Then I'd be lying, and Rachel Berry /never/ lies."

Santana's hand creeps over Rachel's stomach, her fingers digging in just enough to tickle. "Take. It. Back."

Rachel squeaks, the sound high pitched for a second before she's able to stifle it. She looks around, noting that several people are watching them now, including one of the store clerks, due to Santana knocking a couple of dresses off the racks. She doesn't care really, the attention not bothering considering she's seen much worse and more sexual public displays between couples before, but she also doesn't want them to get kicked out. Taking a shaky breath, Rachel leans up, kissing Santana firmly on the lips, one hand reaching up into the girl's hair to deepen it.

Santana kisses her back for a few moments, then pulls back, teasing her as she drags Rachel's bottom lip between her teeth. Tilting her forehead to the other girl's but keeping her lips apart, she breaths out again, "Take it back."

Rachel sighs into the kiss, moaning just loud enough for Santana to hear, and laughs lightly.

"Alright... fine... But I'm still only 'your bitch' in private. And if you ever call me that around our friends you don't get kisses for at least a week."

Somewhat satisfied, Santana lightly squeezes her ass and then steps back, smirking.

"Now that we got that straight. Dresses. Strip."

"New store," insists Rachel instead. She figures it's best to just make an easy escape, before someone says something ignorant and Santana turns into Snixx.

"We can look at bling, too," the smaller brunette added with a grin.

Santana takes this easily enough, wrapping her arm around Rachel and leading her out. She kisses the side of her head as they walk, smiling slightly. Smile brightening at the kiss and arm around her waist, Rachel began going over other plans for prom.

"So, I assume you'll be picking me up, yes? Would your mother want to come with in a seperate vehicle? Take pictures of us together with my dads? Otherwise they can send her pictures. Also, are we going to Breadstix for dinner or eating at my place? And will we be going back to mine after prom, or yours?"

"Too many plans, too fast," Santana shook her head, but she's still smiling. "Yeah, I can get you, and I can guarantee Mami's gonna come barging over even if I tried to handcuff her to her bed or something. God, I'm gonna have to gag her first."

Rachel laughs, swiping at Santana's stomach playfully.

"Santana! You're ridiculous. If anything your mother and my dads will get so distracted with one another that we can sneak out. I assume we're eating out then, given that. Salads at Breadstix, and if we're hungry after the dance or something we can always get snacks later. I find that a small, but energy packed meal is best before dancing. Otherwise dresses fit weird and you can cramp up. Very unpleasant."

"Yeah or I'll be too fat and the zipper will break," is Santana's less wordy reply with another shrug. The words are nonchalant but there is some worry to it as well. "Do we have to go back anywhere after?"

Rachel, knowing better than to say too much about Santana's word choice, simply leans up to kiss Santana's jawline.

"You're beautiful. Always will be. What do you mean? Neither of us are old enough to legally rent a hotel room, Santana. So unless one of our parents pays for it, then yes, we'd have to go back at some point after the dance. And I really would rather not go to an after party, personally. I'd prefer to spend the evening with just you."

"Oh, there's some place that will take cash," Santana shrugged, leaning her head into Rachel's outside the department store as she stops briefly. No matter that that kind of place would hardly be romantic. "Or we could drive around and park. Or the woods! Woods are peaceful and private, right?"

"I feel as though you have some sort of bucket list involving us, nakeness, and orgasms..." mutters Rachel with a little shake of her head. "What if I can convince my dads to see a show in Columbus? They'd leave at the same time we do, and would be gone all evening, up until late in the morning at the earliest. We'd have the house to ourselves."

"Hey, how did you know?" Santana asks in genuine surprise, giving Rachel a little shove to the shoulder. "Are you snooping in my room when I'm asleep?"

At this suggestion her eyes light up, and she nods enthusiastically. "Yessss yes yes do it do it do it."

Snorting for what seems the upteenth time, Rachel drags Santana into the clothing store and towards the prom dresses as she replies.

"No, I'm not snooping. But you're not very subtle. You keep listing off different ways and places for us to have sexual intercourse, which means you've thought about it, which usually means you've gotten ideas and have collected those ideas into a bucketlist. That said, I'll ask my dads about it tonight. Just to get the idea in their heads. It might take a little push, after all."

"You're too smart, you know that? Turn off that brain and let me shock you once in a while," Santana shook her head as she let herself be steered. "Can you give them a big push? Maybe even a shove?"

As Rachel began to skim the racks, she winked at Santana. "You shock me all the time, I assure you. And I'll do the my best. But you have to be on your very best behavior as well."

Santana is barely looking at the racks, way more interested in this conversation. She bumps her hip to Rachel's. "Oh? And what does that entail?"

Smirking, Rachel glances over to Santana. "Not pinching my posterior in front of them, or putting your hand on my upper thigh when you stay for dinner... Not trying to get me to have sex on the couch when they're at home and upstairs... Normal things, sweetie."

Santana's eyebrows raise at this, and she genuinely looks thrown. "It's not normal to put my hand on your thigh at dinner? That's nothing!"

"It WOULD be normal if you didn't attempt to creep your way between my legs," responds Rachel, her voice a bit lower this time. "Honestly, you're insatiable, I swear."

"Well the way we've been, on and off, between me dumping you and you dumping me, that's a LOT of time not getting to touch anyone," Santana shrugs as she picks through the rack, examining several dresses and draping them over her arm. "Don't tell me you weren't getting wrist cramps from doing yourself."

Rachel almost chokes as she tries to swallow down her sudden laugh, covering her mouth with her hand, cheeks tinting a dark red again.

"Santana!" she scolds, lightly slapping the girl's shoulder. "For one, I was... /busy/. Too busy to... do anything with myself." And then a pout. "Besides, I tried once, but it wasn't... I just kept thinking of you, and that was frustrating because I was still very angry with you. So I gave up."

Santana rolls her eyes, doubting her very much. "Right. You used a helpful object of some kind then...you like this color?" She holds up a shimmery dark blue dress.

Rachel looks at it, then bites the corner of her lip in thought. "...I do... But I don't think I could pull it off. Unless you meant for you. But I'm still iffy about it."

Santana shrugs, inspecting it again. "I think you should try some darker colors or bright bold ones. Go for the mature or else really make it pop...or you can just wear that red bikini one I showed you earlier."

"My fathers wouldn't let me out the door. Besides..." she raises her brow, "Do you really want everyone else staring at me all night? Such as... Puck, or the hockey team... Or Jacob Ben-Israel?"

This was not at all something that had crossed Santana's mind. Her face stiffens, and she immediately starts to scan the racks for the most boring, modest dress she can find. "Good point."

Laughing, Rachel hip bumps Santana. "Don't make me look like an old maid. I do want to feel pretty at prom."

"You're always pretty," she says automatically. "But I don't want them dropping drool down your cleavage."

Her smile softens, and Rachel leans over to kiss Santana gently on the corner of her lips. "You can bring a baseball with you if need be. We'll find a dress that's pretty but not too overly skin-showing. My body is for your eyes only, after all."

Rachel continues to look through the dress rack, but sighs. There's really nothing that's standing out for her. Not even the gold dress, and she loves gold. The small brunette pouts. "I can't find anything here. There's some cute things but it's all too big, or too short."

"Too short? Baby, you are the size of a munchkin," Santana laughed, shaking her head. "Whatever. Short is good."

She disappears into the dressing room to try on some "short" dresses herself.

Rolling her eyes, she does that a lot around Santana it seems, Rachel follows Santana, sitting on a bench just outside the dress stall she's in, deciding to use her time to look at her girlfriend.

"Make sure to come out and show me each dress. It's only fair," she says.

Santana emerges a few minutes later in a tight black dress with silver embellishings, holding out her arms. "Yeah?"

Rachel grins.

"Definitely an option. Especially if you wear those earrings I bought you, perhaps? Or... hm... I think they were silver and ruby at least... Now I can't remember..."

Shaking the thought away, Rachel gave Santana two thumbs up, and said, "My only concern is that it's too tight. Can you actually move or dance in that dress?"

Santana moved her body in a serpentlike motion of her torso, turn turned in a circle.

"All about ab control." She looks down though, the "too tight" part briefly concerning her. "It doesn't look bad?"

Blinking, then having to physically shake her head a little to get rid of the daze, Rachel cleared her throat.

"Definitely not bad. At all. Especially now that you... demonstrated your... um... range of motion."

Santana tries on a crimson dress with details of roses at the hips and emerges making a face. "Makes my ass look weird."

"Well I think it looks gorgeous," says Rachel, then smirks a little. "It does look a little like something Tina might wear, however..." she teases.

This is enough for Santana to immediately start unzipping the back before she's anywhere near the dressing room, scowling. When she remeerges a few minutes later she takes Rachel's arm, pulling her towards door.

"You're right, not my place."

Rachel laughs, but follows willingly, moving her arm so that she can take Santana's hand instead.

"For what it's worth I really, really loved that color on you. Just the style of the roses were throwing me off."

She holds Rachel's hand as they walk, quiet for a while until they are approaching the next store. Then she looks over at her sideways and says, as casually as she can make it, "I really look okay? Because I didn't win prom queen last year, and now that I'm out all over the place...I mean, I know no one is going to vote for me or whatever, so...I at least don't want them saying shit about how I look."

Rachel stops them before they enter the store, pulling Santana off to the side and holding both of her girlfriend's hands in her own, looking up at her with a soft, sincere smile.

"You look incredible, Santana. You /are/ incredible. Anyone that tries to say anything about you, is, honestly, jealous. You're beautiful. All of you. The most beautiful girl I've ever seen, /ever/. And you always will be, simply because you're you. And yes, I know that all sounds cliche, and trite, but I believe it completely."

Santana smiles softly, her eyes dropping, before she looks back up at her. She doesn't say anything; she doesn't really know what words would be an adequate reply. Instead she leans forward and kisses her, putting all her thoughts and feelings into the gesture, one hand lightly cupping Rachel's face. Rachel accepts the kiss easily, sighing into it and relaxing her body against Santana's own. She tilts her head a little to the side, arms wrapping around Santana's neck, and presses up a little more for more contact and firmness between their lips. Santana's leg slips between Rachel's own, bracing them, and her hand creeps up her back and begins to massage her thumb into its muscles as she sighs, relaxing as well. Santana's hands are still cupping Rachel's face, the back of her neck, and she swallows, her breathing slightly fast, before nodding, reluctant to pull back.

"Should stop now...Yes mistress." She smirks, but there's playfulness in the words.

Once again, Rachel rolls her eyes.

"Mmm, I see you've come to terms with being my bitch outside of the bedroom, yes?" teases Rachel right back, winking at Santana and pulling away from her towards the store entrance.

"Nope," Santana slaps her ass, then tugs the ends of her hair. "Watch it, madam, I could totally drag you by your hair and tie you up with glitzy scarves."

Blushing and squeaking at the slap to her ass, Rachel glares back at Santana indignantly, despite knowing that she had brought that all on herself.

"Very rude, Santana Lopez," she says, before grabbing her hand and entering the store finally. "Come on. I have one more dress I need for my top three. The sooner we get this over with the sooner we can grab a small lunch and head back to my house."

Santana grinned back at her, sticking out her tongue, and let herself be dragged. Maybe it wasn't so bad to be dominated, somewhat.


	56. Chapter 56

Conversation

Texts

**Santana**: Will you talk to me please?**  
**

**Rachel:** What? What happened? Are you okay? What's wrong?

**Santana:** Nothing. Just…I bought my dress and it's kind of tight and I'm sort of scared it's not going to fit anymore by prom night so I want to throw up but I'm trying not to…so I just want you to talk to me.  
**Rachel:** *dials Santana number instantly*

**Santana:** (picks up) Hello?  
**Rachel:** Um.. Hi… So… So today when I got home from school my dads were waltzing in the living room to the tune of "Moonlight Bay". And then asked me if we'd like to learn how to waltz as well

**Santana**: (frowning slightly, walking in slow circles around her bedroom) I thought you already knew how to. You know like every old time dance there is.  
**Rachel:** Well, I know the two-step. But I've never really had a good partner to practice with. And I'd love to be able to dance circles around other people in Glee with you. You're the perfect partner, after Mike

**Santana**: (knowing that Rachel is trying to distract her and keep her happy, tries to give a small smile, though she knows she can't see her through the phone) Better than Finn, for sure.  
**Rachel**: *smiles a little, giggling* Much better, yes. And though he's handsome, I'd rather look at you. And I'd certainly rather kiss you

**Santana:** *mock gags, not noting the irony* Have you seen the custard nipples? Or the floppy earlobes? Or the fact that he always has a dopey or constipated look on his face?  
**Rachel**: Oh shush. Besides, you can argue my taste in men but my taste in women is clearly _flawless. _I only aim for the very best, Miss Lopez

**Santana:** *small smile, licking her lips and going quiet* Well…you're pretty high maintainence.  
**Rachel**: *snorts, laughing lightly* You apparently LIKE high maintenance, then, Santana Lopez…

**Santana:** (quiet, brief laugh) Yeah. I do. (exhales, shifting phone to other ear, pacing slowing to a meander) Keep talking, baby. Please? It's…helping.  
**Rachel:** *doesn't miss a beat bit, going into embarrassing childhood stories right away* When I was six I thought Barney was an actual living dinosaur and tried to convince my fathers to help me save from and release him into the wild

**Santana:** (burst out laughing) Oh my god, are you serious?!

**Rachel:** *blushing in utter embarrassment, but hearing Santana's laugh is worth it, so she presses on* Yes, and for your information I even came up with an absolutely flawless breakout plan. And, *takes a deep breath to steel her nerves* I'm not sure if you remember this at all. I don't really expect you to. But in 2nd grade during snack time, you were throwing a fit because Noah took the last cookie that Nathan Williams had brought the class for his birthday. I drew you a card with hearts and sparkles, put my two cookies inside of it, and put it in your backpack when you weren't looking; I didn't want you to be angry all day. I also didn't sign the card because I was scared you'd hit me

**Santana:** (melts, face breaking out into a soft smile as all pacing comes to a halt) Really? That was you? I remember that…I thought it was Brittany. Rachel, that's so sweet. I thought you didn't like me because I pulled your hair and stepped on your feet and scribbled on your picture of the indigenous something or another. (snickers) He really did piss me off. He already had his damn cookies and I wanted mine.(new thought occurs to her) Rachel. You probably don't remember this either but there was that other day in second grade when that fourth grader called me ugly and I hit him with a yardstick but then I was crying in the bathroom and kicking the stall door, and you were in the stall door I was kicking and I yelled at you…later that day I got this card in really, absurdly neat handwriting that said "I think you're pretty." Was that YOU?  
**Rachel:** *Blushes, but smiles nonetheless as she bites her lip before replying* Y-yes. I remember taking exactly 20 minutes writing it, trying to be as neat and legible as possible.*Lets out a slow exhale*I was… I was terrified of you, more than anything. For, yes, all of those reasons. But sometimes I saw you cry alone, like in the bathroom. And when you actually smiled I thought you had the most amazing smile in the world.I stopped writing you cards around 4th grade because I was scared you'd eventually figure out who it was and push me off the jungle gym or something of that

**Santana:** (digests this with something like amazement, at this point having forgotten the anxiety that had driven her to ask Rachel to call her in the first place. Smiling incredulously now, she shakes her head, her voice somewhat choked when she replies as she blinks several times)

**Santana:** You liked me for that long…  
**Rachel:** *swallows thickly, laughing a little at herself* Y-yeah. I mean— It didn't really become, you know, /feelings/ until 8th grade… or so… But… I know. It's— you know. Silly. I guess. To have been crushing on someone since 2nd grade…But…*snorts* In… In 3rd grade you asked, well demanded really, but still— You asked to borrow my favorite pencil. It was pink with gold stars. You had lost yours. And we were taking a spelling test. I let you and you smiled at me. I never got the pencil back. I have no idea what happened to it. But I went home that day and told my dads all about the really pretty and loud girl in my class that smiled at me and I didn't shut up about it until it was dinner time. *She's as red as a tomato now, for sure, and her heart is hammering in her chest, but Santana sounds a less panicky, so if pouring out these slightly embarrassing and absurd memories keeps Santana happy, and that smile in her voice, Rachel is more than okay with continuing to tell them*

**Santana:** (taking this in, Santana continues to smile incredulously, unable to believe any of this) I don't remember that. Are you sure you're not making half of this up?(she tries to remember more about Rachel, then snickers, actually dimpling up at this memory) I remember you standing up when we were reading Shel Silverstein poems and practically having a conniption on behalf of the sharp toothed snails that apparently live inside people's noses. You were demanding they be fed proper food and be freed from noses so they wouldn't be forced to eat nails and rings and fingers instead. You were worried they would never properly be fed because…because people won't keep sticking fingers up their noses after losing a few things! (Santana is laughing hard now, remembering this) Oh god, I threw my book at your head and called you a…what did I call you? A snaggled toothed slug?  
**Rachel:** *Huffs, pouting, but answers* A… A snaggle-toothed slug with monkey hands… I'm just glad the book was really small… And no, I'm not making this up. Trust me, some of the things I did due to my ridiculous crush on you are more than embarrassing enough without me having to embellish any of it…*Continues to swallow her pride, focusing on the fact that Santana is laughing and enjoying the conversation, even though it's completely at Rachel's expense.*

**Rachel:** There… *she hesitates for a moment, but pushes on* There was also Valentines Day, 6th grade… I "accidentally" put an extra piece of candy in your card- the ones we had to hand out to everyone in class. You laughed and called me some name or another, and I figured it was better to let you think I had made a mistake. It was stupid… but I rationalized that… at least I had made you laugh. Even if it was _at me_

**Santana:** : (stops laughing, her smile softer now, even sympathetic) Baby…I never deserved you. But I'm so glad you're mine. (she pauses, still thinking of memories of little Rachel and little Santana, finally coming up with one) You know in music class, in elementary school…I always used to make fun of you and call you a show off and a loudmouth, and how I'd try to shove your hand down if you raised it to play one of the instruments? Did you notice that when we would actually sing, I wouldn't sing very loud, even though I liked it…it was…sort of because I wanted to hear you over everyone else. I didn't make fun of you when we were actually singing…just after. Because I didn't want people to know I had liked it.(pauses, shaking head) I was such a little baby-bitch- in -training. But I knew you were special, even then. Granted, I thought you were an annoying pain in the ass…but I was still jealous anyway.

**Rachel:** *laughs quietly, laying her head down on her pillow* I… I did notice that, yes… It actually made me really upset sometimes. Because I wanted to hear you sing and almost never could. So I ended up just singing louder to vent my frustrations…In 7th grade I got brave enough to invite you, and granted a few others, over to my house for my birthday party. You… *smiles sadly* You called me an ugly troll and threw the invitation away, making sure I saw you do it. I… sort of gave up after that. I figured that it was never going to happen. You were always going to hate me, and I needed to accept that. And yet… lo and behold… *her smiles becomes a little brighter, and she sighs contently* Now you call me baby, and love me, and just the other night you were ravishing me in your bed….

**Santana:** (still smiling slightly, a little sad thinking of a sad little Rachel, but when Rachel finishes out, she laughs, sitting on her bed) You are my baby, and I do love you. And I definitely ravish you good.  
**Rachel**: *giggles, now blushing for an entirely different reason* You ravish me the _best_. And you love me the best. The way you secretly spoil me with a ridiculous amount of attention is also pretty amazing, if I do say so myself.I love you, too, though. And I still think you've the most beautiful smile in the world. I'd start sending you cards with stars and hearts and glitter again if it meant you'd always be happy

**Santana**: (smiling, now curling up in bed with the phone to her ear) You can if you want to. Just not where anyone sees

**Rachel: T**hen I'm going to do it. I'll be sneaky about it, too. Just like back in elementary school

**Santana:** (hugging the stuffed cat Rachel gave her to her chest, exhaling) Thanks, baby.

**Rachel**: *curls up amongst her blankets more* You're welcome… Are you feeling better? Or would you like me to embarrass myself more?

**Santana:** I'm feeling better. But hey, feel free to go on. (chuckles)

88

Facebook status

Santana: I did NOT after finally submitting to seeing Frozen. Don't listen to anyone who says otherwise. Lies and I'ma cut a bitch.

Brittany: Santana! You watched it without me!?

Santana: Um…no? 'Cause…I didn't cry so therefore I didn't watch it either?

Brittany: You lie.

Santana: that is a super mean thing to say.

Brittany: So is lying, meanie head.

Santana: Did not lie. My eyes were totally dusty.

Brittany: Lies.

Santana: ...okay...

88

After the conversation with Brittany about Santana having seen Frozen, Santana gets the sense that Brittany is upset with her. Rather than bother asking her over the phone, she simply heads over to Brittany's house on impulse, though it is rather late on a Sunday night, and invites herself in and down the hall to Brittany's room. Not knocking, she simply flops down on her stomach on Brittany's bed, reaching out to poke her while cradling her chin in one hand.

"Why are you mad at me?"

Brittany was laying with her head off the side of the bed, texting Tina and fake arguing with Santana when she was supposed to be doing the homework that was laying at the end of her bed untouched. She hadn't realized that anyone was even there until she felt the plop from the bed and someone poke her; the blonde flipped off the bed to see who had poked her, relieved when it was just Santana.

"I was just teasing you, you goof. I'm not mad."

"Oh." Santana scowled at her, poking her again, and then pouted, genuinely irritated and bothered by this. Rolling onto her back, she steepled her hands over her stomach, eyes cast to the ceiling.

"You called me mean and a liar. I think I should ignore and be mad at YOU now."

Brittany shook her head as she climbed back onto the bed, then poked Santana back. The blonde brushed her hair out of her face and flashed Santana a cheesy smile.

"You can't be mad at me, I have too pretty of a face for you to be mad at."

Santana continued to attempt to scowl at her, shaking her head as she stubbornly kept her eyes cast upward.

"Nope. Mad. I might even cry." She sighed over dramatically. "You're that mean to me."

Brittany teasingly rolled her eyes, as she laid down beside Santana, softly poking her leg.

"What if I told you a joke? Would that make you not mad at me?"

She turned her head just enough that she could see Santana staring up at the ceiling.

Santana shook her head stubbornly, giving Brittany a light kick.

"Nope. It would not. Here I am being totally nice and good and minding my own business watching a dumb movie that definitely did not in any way make me cry and you tease me and act mean."

She sticks her tongue out, though her eyes now shift towards Brittany and she is hiding a smile.

Brittany chuckled, shaking her head.

"Okay, if you say it didn't make you cry then it didn't make you cry even though it probably did."

She quickly stuck her tongue out at Santana, smiling as she did so. "So, dish out prom plans. I want to know everything."

"Did not!" Santana protests, but she is trying harder not to smile now. "So didn't. Liar."

She reaches out to grab Brittany's tongue, holding it and now laughing aloud before letting it go.

"We went dress shopping and Rachel tortured me for hours and won't let me know which dress or watch her undress," she rolled her eyes, rolling back onto her stomach.

"You totally did, I can tell. You can't lie to me, I have the power to tell when people aren't telling the truth."

When she grabbed her tongue, Brittany grabbed Santana's wrist until she let go. "That's gross. Do you have your dress picked out yet?"

"Lie," Santana insisted, but she is still smiling. She lets go, then, still looking up at the ceiling, appears to grow more serious as she answers. "Yeah. I did."

She is quiet for a few seconds before saying more soberly, "It's kind of tight. I sort of want to lose weight before prom to make sure it fits."

"Whatever." Brittany giggled looking at her. Her smile dropped when Santana had said something about losing weight, she was worried about her best friend.

"San, you don't need to lose any more weight- you're skinnier than me. Plus, you look hot in tight dresses and you know it."

Santana is quiet for a few more seconds, her eyes directed upward. Rachel had said the same thing to her while shopping, and she knows logically that she is not by any means heavy. In fact, she had lost a few pounds before getting back with Rachel in her occasional relapses. Still, the feeling remains, and it is almost like a habit she can't quite shake as much as a genuine belief that she is in need of losing weight.

"I just want to sometimes," she shrugs, before rolling back over onto her stomach, attempting to change the subject. "Did you get a dress yet?"

"But why?" Brittany just wanted to understand why Santana did what she did so she wouldn't get the 'you don't understand' from her anymore.

"Not yet, Tina and I are going to go dress shopping soon. I went and looked around the other day to see if they had any black ones for Tina and I saw a really pretty pink one that I liked."

"Because."

Santana doesn't know how to put this into words, not where someone other than she will understand. She herself still doesn't, most of the time. Her face is reddening, and she starts to pick at the blanket on Brittany's bed, avoiding her eyes as she tries to answer.

"Because it's like a pressure in me…you know? And it can start with just not having a good day or being annoyed or mad or getting sad over something, but then it starts to feel like there's something under my skin and I have to scratch it out, and there's something building up and I'm going to explode. And then I start to feel like…ugly, and like everything about me is wrong. And like I'm exploding out my clothes and it's because I'm fat. So I can make it stop, I can make it go down and away if I don't eat. Or if I get rid of it. Or something."

She nods in response to Brittany's words, not really listening.

Brittany chewed on the inside of her cheek as she listened to Santana, softly nodding. She wasn't quite sure if she understood _completely_, but to a point she did.

"And you don't think you should talk to someone like Ms. Pillsbury about it? I mean, maybe not her because she's kind of… scary, but someone like her. I'm sure if you talked to somebody they could totally make that pressure go away."

Santana shook her head, still picking at the blanket.

"Mami made me go a few times but I just wouldn't talk to them. I don't want to talk to them about it. They don't know me and they don't get it and I don't want them to get it. They look at me like there's something wrong with me and it makes me feel worse."

Sitting up, she stands, stretching, avoiding Brittany's eyes.

"Okay, but if there is something wrong wouldn't you want to get it fixed? If you don't you'll feel like this forever and I can't imagine that's any fun. Can't you go talk to someone, for me- for you too."

She gave Santana a fake a smile, hoping that she'd possibly agree to it.

Santana is quiet for a while, trying not to look at Brittany. She knows Rachel wants her to too, but she is still resisting somewhat when she answers.

"Britt…I'm trying really hard now. I mess up sometimes but I'm trying…and I call Rachel or go sit with Mami sometimes if I want to do that. Do you have to ask me to talk to someone I don't know too?"

"I know you are. I'm not telling you to do anything, I'm suggesting you do it… you do whatever it is you want to do. I'm just saying that if you want to get better, that option is out there. And no one is going to judge you for getting help."

She sat up and shrugged as she played with the ends of her hair.

Santana bit her lip, thinking about what Brittany is saying. She doesn't like it, but she's right, it is an option. Slowly she threads her hand through Brittany's arm, wanting the contact with her as she looks up at her.

"It's scary. All of it. How I feel, what I do. When I have to make myself not do it and just get through it. Talking. It just…it's really scary."

And then was why she chose to lay for the next minutes in silence, thinking, and trying not to, about what Brittany had just said.


	57. Chapter 57

It's early morning, in the last lingering hours of night after prom. It had been everything they had wanted and expected, magical and beautiful and perfect in every way Rachel could have dreamed. Well, except that neither she nor Santana had gotten prom queen- that honor had gone to Leslie Neal, some girl who wasn't even on Cheerios OR in Glee- but other than that, it was the night Rachel would never, one year ago, have expected it to be possible for her to have.

As Rachel hums to herself, waiting for Santana to get out of the shower, she slides into the bed and, curling up under the blankets comfortably., all she wanted was to cuddle with her girlfriend, maybe kiss and makeout for awhile, before going to bed. Her fathers and Santana's mother had given permission for them to stay at Rachel's home, as long as they were quiet about coming in.

Santana emerges from the shower, drying her hair with her towel rather than a blow dryer and letting it continue to dry on its own as she brushes her teeth and slips into a tank top and her underwear to get into bed. She is relaxed and content now, even tired, nothing on her mind but getting in bed and cuddling, if not more, possibly, with Rachel. She smiles as she reenters Rachel's room, enjoying how comfortable and pretty her girl looks beneath the covers, and slips under with her, curling up close to her with her arms wrapped around her. Leaning in, she kisses the tip of Rachel's nose.

"Hey you."

Rachel giggles, scooting as close to Santana as she can get and burying her face in the crook of the woman's neck, sighing in contentment.

"Hello, dear," she responds, kissing the nearest patch of skin to her lips. "Did you enjoy your shower? You were in there for quite a bit..." she teases.

Santana snickers, arching her neck to give Rachel more room as her fingers lightly tease over Rachel's spine, one of her legs shifting to slightly overlap Rachel's.

"Oh I enjoyed it," she smirked. "Lots of foreplay for the foreplay." She laughs, kissing Rachel's forehead. But in all actuality she's very relaxed and would be very comfortable with simply resting with Rachel with prolonged physical affection.

Rolling her eyes, Rachel curls herself tighter into Santana's warm body, nuzzling her neck and jawline.

"Did I ever tell you that you are, in all the world, the very best cuddler?" And then, after a moment, "and that your breasts make the most perfect pillows ever?"

"I am pretty awesome," Santana agrees playfully, her hand drifting up Rachel's back to finger her hair.

She strokes her fingers through it, inhaling the other girl's scent, and closes her eyes. There is quiet contentment between them for a few moments, and then Santana bursts out laughing, seemingly out of nowhere.

Slightly startled, Rachel looks up as she best she can, confusion furrowing her eyebrows.

"...Um... Did I miss something?" she asks, not at all understanding what was so funny. Though also not particularly upset about how Santana's laughter not only sounded like music to her ears, but also made her breasts bounce in a particularly appealing way...

Still snickering, Santana squeezes Rachel's arm, nudging her with an elbow as she looks down at her, grinning widely. "So do you remember the FIRST time you ever tried to cuddle me?"

Blinking, shifting a little so that she can look at Santana better whilst remaining in her arms, Rachel slowly shakes her head.

"Um... No...? Should I...?" she asks carefully, unsure of when Santana is talking about, or why it's funny.

"We were like, five," Santana is still grinning, and she adjusts too, wanting to look at Rachel while she prods her memory. "In kindergarten. You don't remember?"

Pouting now, wracking her memory for this, Rachel huffed.

"I feel like an idiot, but I can honestly say I cannot recall. Tell me?" she asks, snuggling up more comfortably in her girlfriend's arms for "story time".

**88**

I_n the "time out" corner of her kindergarten classroom, five-year-old Santana Lopez was not at all happy. In fact, it would not be in the least bit inaccurate to say that she was furious. Having been sent to time out for pouring sand down Noah Puckerman's hair, she was now missing out on art time, and that was one of her very favorite activity centers. Well, favorite after snack time, and playhouse time, and recess, and PE. But it was still one of her VERY FAVORITES, and she was missing it and it wasn't even her fault. That stupid Noah had pulled her hair so she had just HAD to pour sand on him and he wasn't even in trouble! The teacher had told her to be quiet and think about what she was supposed to be doing to behave, but Santana had no intention of following through. _

_"IT'S NOT FAIR!" she hollered, kicking her feet against the wall, as furious tears streamed down her face. "I WANNA PAINT PICTURES! IT'S NOT FAIR!" _

_She continued to kick her feet, not even comforted by the fact that her cool new light__ up shoes were flashing with every kick. She makes absolutely no effort to be quiet and in fact cries loudly, practically howling her outrage. "I HATE YOU NOAH!"_

_From across the room, glancing every so often at the screaming girl in the corner, Rachel busily worked on her painting. At first she had planned on making something for her daddies, but then she remembered that giving gifts to people that were upset could help them be not upset, and right now Santana seemed reeeally upset. So she painted, and even put some glitter here and there, just to make it extra nice. Once done, with ten minutes left of art class left, she stood up from where she sat alone at the work table nearest the teacher's desk, and skipped her way over to the other girl._

_"This is for you. I made it, because you look really unhappy. And people with pretty smiles shouldn't look unhappy all the time," the smaller girl insisted, holding out the painting of a puppy running on a grass hill under a gold glitter sun to Santana._

_Santana's screaming has died down after about five minutes, since her teacher is ignoring her and most of the staring little kids are too intimidated to approach her. Except Noah, of course- he keeps smirking in her direction, and every time Santana catches him, she lets out a renewed yell of indignation. But by the time Rachel approaches her she has worn herself down to simple sulky tears, slumped over the back of her chair as she resentfully watches the other children. She blinks when Rachel approaches, grinding her fists into her eyes, and then scowls at her, not sure what to think of the girl's approach. _

_Rachel Berry was really, really small, almost like a baby in Santana's opinion, and she always wore dresses which meant she couldn't play on the swings or jungle gym as much and she wore dumb tights too. Santana always wondered how she got to the bathroom in time without peeing on herself wearing those every day, because Santana always had a hard time getting those stupid things off when her abuela made __her wear them to church, and she ripped holes in them and got smacked and yelled at. That girl was always saying weird things that Santana didn't get too, and Santana didn't think she liked her very much. All the teachers seemed to like her way better than Santana and Santana just didn't get why._

_ As the girl held the paper out to her, Santana continued to sulk, rubbing her fists over her eyes. _

_"I don't want your picture. I wanna make my own. Yours is stupid. Everyone is stupid. Everyone is mean and stupid and I hate them." Her voice is sulky rather than angry though, and she sticks out her lower lip, another tear dripping down her cheek. "Hate them!"_

_Frowning for a moment, but undeterred, Rachel bit her lip, continuing to hold the picture out._

_ "But it has glitter," she insisted._

_ Persistence was the key, her daddies told her. Smile and be persistence. And she did smile, even though Santana wasn't smiling at all. _

_"I didn't sign it. So you can pretend it's from someone else. And I know you like puppies. That's why I drew one. It's a black lab. I think. At least it's supposed to be."_

_Santana continued to glare down at the picture, but she was reluctantly looking it over now, noting that it was actually pretty good, compared to a lot of kids their age, and it wasn't really all that stupid and ugly. She's still scowling at it, but she takes it, sticking it under her chair as she rubs at her eyes again._

_Rachel's insistent smile became a full on, happy grin, and she clapped her hands happily._

_ "Yay! I've seen you make stuff in art, you know. You're really good with crayons. I'm good with crayons too but I think you're even better. You draw really neat cats and trees. And, um," she pauses, realizing that she's almost running out of things to say. But she needs to keep going. People tend to ignore her when she stops talking (sometimes when she is talking but less so), and she's not ready for Santana to ignore her yet. _

_"And your hair is pretty," the small girl suddenly, shamelessly, blurts out._

_Santana continues to eye Rachel suspiciously, now entirely distracted from crying by the girl's presence. She shrugs, not sure what to think about her. _

_"I know it. I'm awesome with crayons. And my mami says I'm pretty so I know that too."_

_Faltering for a moment, Rachel nods. She's pretty bad at "social cues" ( said so one time), but she's pretty sure this is the part where she leaves now. Which is... That makes her sad. But Santana is pretty and also scary, but mostly pretty, so it shouldn't surprise Rachel that she doesn't want her around. Lots of people don't. And that's okay, because her dads always do. _

_Then, deciding to test fate, she stutters out "I'm going to hug you okay" and she does. _

_It's quick. Really quick. And she pulls back after only a second, eyes closed tight and shoulders scrunched up as she waits for the retaliation._

_For a second Santana stiffened up, totally caught off guard. She's not used to people hugging her, other than her mother, and she thinks at first, even though Rachel had announced her intentions, that the girl is going to hit her when she gets close. At first she doesn't respond, letting the girl close- but then she sees Noah, smirking and sticking his tongue out at her, over Rachel's shoulder. Renewed anger flares up in her, and on instinct she pushes Rachel back._

_ "Go 'way, Garbage Face!"_

_Rachel stumbles, falling to the floor instantly and landing on her elbows. It's painful, the shock of the hard floor jolting her small bones, and she whimpers as tears immediately appear at the corners of her eyes and start running down her cheeks. _

_"S-sorry," she chokes out. _

_The small girl scrambles up shakily to her feet, and hurriedly makes her way back to her lone table, sniffling and scrunching her shoulders up as the kids that she passes jeer and call her "Garbage face", snickering and pointing at her._

_Having witnessed this, the teacher quickly comes over, checking to see that Rachel is all right, before scolding Santana again, informing her that not only will she be spending more time in the time out corner, she will also be getting a note home for her parents. Santana doesn't care- she'll rip it up before her abuela gets it- and instead slumps over the back of the chair, focusing on Rachel with a faint frown._

_ She hadn't thought the girl would fall. She definitely didn't think about her crying. Santana herself doesn't like crying, and having spent a good ten minutes or so doing so today, she starts to feel sort of bad about making Rachel cry. But she doesn't know what she should do or say to take it back, or if she should at all._

_ This was Noah's fault, she decided. If she never got sent to time out because of him this wouldn't have happened, and if he hadn't looked at her so stupid...vowing to herself to throw sand right back in his face all over again the second she got out of time out, Santana turned back __around and faced the wall, sticking her thumb in her mouth as she renewed drumming her feet against the legs of her chair._

_Once in a while she snuck glances down at the painting Rachel had left for her. She really did like it._

**88**

Rachel shook her head, curling into Santana a little bit more, a faint smile on her face.

"You were an obnoxious little imp, Santana Lopez," she said, reaching her hand out to entwine her fingers with her girlfriends. "And I say that with all the love in the world. Truly."

"No, I was awesome with crayons and I had pretty hair," Santana smirks, reaching out to touch Rachel's cheek as she says playfully, "Garbage Face."

Rachel snorts, leaning up to kiss Santana's chin.

"Little imp," she replied back easily. "But do you still have really pretty hair. ...And I you're probably not too bad with crayons, either."

"Britt is the crayon champ. She basically refuses to write in anything else," Santana replies, her fingers lightly stroking Rachel's face before she leans in to kiss her lips.

Settling back, she snickers. "Puck always got me in trouble. Wasn't until I got a little older I figured out how to get him in trouble instead of me...so story time. Tell me something you remember."

Sighing happily, Rachel closes her eyes, humming in though. She tucks her head under Santana's chin, thinking back to when they were children. A particular memory comes to mind; it's bittersweet, as all of her memories involving Santana and her as children are, but she cherishes it anyway.

**88**

_Rachel is 9 years old, the youngest, and still the smallest, in her 4th grade class. It's recess, and she's alone in the corner of the playground, practicing her ballet steps on the soft grass. She has a recital in three days, and her daddies will be there, so she wants to make them as proud as possible. Suddenly, without warning, a kickball slams into her back, sending her reeling to the ground. Dizzy, in pain, and now covered in grass stains from the sliding fall, she starts to sniffle and tear up, biting her lower lip to keep from making too much noise._

_A shadow falls over her, and she looks up cautiously. Santana Lopez is looking down at her, and Rachel wishes in that moment that her knees didn't hurt, because it's hard to run away from scary people when your knees hurt._

_Dave Karofsky was about to get his ass kicked. Granted, Santana didn't like Rachel herself very much; sure, she mocked her more often than not, rolled her eyes and sighed when Rachel sucked up to their teacher for the tenth time in a day, and she ignored her most of the time if Rachel even seemed to be attempting to catch her eye. _

_But the girl was like, two feet tall, and he was big and fat and had kicked the ball HARD. Everyone was laughing even though Dave was NOT funny, and he was really mean sometimes actually, way meaner than Santana was. She didn't HURT people, that was just stupid. _

_Her ears burning, Santana watched from a distance for a few seconds, scowling, but when she saw that Rachel was starting to cry, her anger got the best of her. Chin lifted, she stalked over to her, almost shoving Dave out of the way, and stood over her, still half glaring down at her. _

_"You're bloody," she informs her. "That's why you don't wear stupid tights. They rip and get nasty." Then, hands on her hips, she informs her,"You know, people laugh more when you cry. You're supposed to just tell him he's a fartface and get up and throw it back."_

_Swallowing hard, Rachel manages to sit up, wiping at her eyes. She glares up at Santana, sniffling again. _

_"C-calling people names is mean," she says, then looks down at her ruined tights. They were one of her favorite pairs, too... "And I'm not a mean person. My daddy said so..."_

_Santana rolls her eyes, sighing aloud with obvious exasperation. _

_"You be mean to people who are mean to you, that's how it WORKS! Stop crying. He's laughing at you and looking at you," she tells her again, then, sighing, looks around quickly, glaring at any onlookers, before somewhat begrudgingly offering her hand. "Get up, come on."_

_Rachel stares at Santana, then at the kids still pointing and laughing. She shouldn't trust Santana, at all. She's pretty, but she's nice. Especially not to Rachel Berry. But her knees are still stinging and achy, and no one but adults have ever offered to help her, or really touch her unless it was to push her, actually. So, hesitantly, she takes Santana's hand. The girl is stronger than she seems, or maybe Rachel is just that small, so when she pulls Rachel up, Rachel stumbles into her. She retreats quickly, not wanting to be pushed again._

_ "Th-thank you, Santana," she says nervously._

_Santana releases her hand quickly, stepping back, her mouth thinning into a straight line as she looks down at Rachel's knee, then back at her anxious expression. _

_"I'm not your friend," she blurts harshly. But then after a few seconds, she adds in a quieter tone, "But I'll beat him up for that, ok."_

_Rachel gives Santana a watery smile. "I know... I don't have friends," she says matter-of-factly, a simple statement. But then she bites her lip, before nodding. "K-kay... But um... Don't get caught, okay? And be careful. And um. And you- you're way more cool than Dave."_

_ For whatever reason, Rachel finds herself blushing, and stuttering. And she /never/ stutters. _

_"M'gonnagetabandaidnow" rushes the small girl, and then she's gone, hurriedly hobbling over to the teacher before she can embarrass herself more, or make Santana angry._

_Santana watches Rachel go, frowning slightly, and then rejoins her friends, bantering back and forth and occasionally shoving or pinching when she feels it's needed. And the moment school is over, she chases Dave down and beats him, savoring the fact that she, who is even at nine smaller than she is, got the best of him. Even if it was for Rachel Berry's sake. _

_88_

"I went home and told my dads that you saved me from Dave. It was... not entirely true. But it sort of felt like it. Even if you insulted me the whole time," Rachel laughed quietly. "My imp in shining armor."

"Imp? Imps are supposed to be little, you're the imp," Santana rejoined, poking Rachel's nose. "The insults were kinda standard. How was I supposed to measure up to the little shining star that allllll the teachers loved so much?"

Rachel giggled at the nose poke, nipping at Santana's finger playfully. "It was because I was /obedient/ and /polite/, Santana. You screamed and threw temper tantrums and kicked kids in the shins when they didn't agree with you."

"Well, how else was I supposed to get my way?" Santana smiled, poking her again and lightly tickling her ribs. "Although now that I think about it, the only ones who would give me my way were other kids. Stupid adults didn't know the rules, I guess."

Squeaking as she was tickled, Rachel tried to pull away from Santana, only to be pulled back against her girlfriend's warm body, wrapped up tightly in her arms. Another content sigh, and she went back to tucking herself into her girlfriend's secure arms.

"Your turn for a story, ."

Resettling Rachel, tucking her chin on the other girl's shoulder, Santana thinks back, rolling her eyes.

"I didn't make trouble...exactly...it just sort of popped up with your name attached sometimes..."

**88**

_Six year old Santana had already been more than a little displeased with how not her own preferred way her day was going, and how it seemed that Rachel Berry's name was constantly attached to the reason why it wasn't. First off, Rachel got to lead the class in saying the pledge of allegiance, which was completely and totally unfair. Just because Santana forgot half the words the last time she was supposed to lead and so started making up some silly ones and the whole class started laughing was no reason at all why she shouldn't get to lead today. Then they had everyone line up for music class in alphabetical order and that meant that Rachel got to go first because her last name started with a B and Santana's name was in the middle so she was smashed in between Dave Karofsky and Rick Nelson, and she HATED those boys! Then at lunch Santana got in trouble and had to have silent lunch because she got caught trying to bribe Rachel out of her lunch money, and now this, this was the final straw. _

_The library lady __had come to their classroom and she picked Rachel to be her reading helper, AGAIN! And that meant that Rachel got to sit in her lap and show the other kids the book pictures while the lady read it aloud, and she got to flip the pages. And that was just not cool. _

_Glaring across the carpet of the story area at Rachel, Santana's face burned with resentment, and she started to drum her feet on the ground._

_ "This is a stupid story!" she called out before she could stop herself. "Only dumb people like this dumb, stupid story!"_

_Minutes later Rachel watched as Santana was sent to the time out corner. Again. For the third time that day. She sighed quietly, wondering if this meant that Santana was going to be mean to her later at recess... That was usually how it went. The story time ended, and everyone was told to play by themselves for awhile until recess. They didn't get indoor playtime very often, so immediately the kids tore into the toys, playing with Legos and blocks and the like. Rachel made her way back to her desk, which happened to only be a few feet from Santana's corner, and took out her drawing things._

_Santana has screamed and cried herself out in the quiet corner and is now slumping over her chair, eyeing Rachel very, very resentfully. She is sure that it is entirely Rachel's fault that she's here, AGAIN, and here everyone is having fun and playing and she can just see them with her very, very favorite blocks, HER blocks, the ones that she should right at this moment be playing with or maybe just throwing at someone. But she probably won't have any time to play with her blocks at all and that is all Rachel's fault._

_ Watching the other little girl at her desk, Santana starts to scoot her chair towards her, inching out of the quiet corner, as she continues to glare at her, whispering loudly. _

_"I'm gonna get you. I'm gonna get you, Sucky Face."_

_If there's one thing Rachel is good at, it's ignoring people saying mean things to her. Except these are threats that Rachel knows Santana will make good on._

_Quietly, she responds, "I didn't do anything..." voice small, trying to be as firm but not-arguing as possible. _

_Arguing with Santana is /always/ bad. Rachel once saw the other girl pull Natalie Doyers hair over who's Barbie was prettier..._

_"You did too!" Santana's voice rises just enough that the teacher looks up, eyeing them, upon which Santana attempts to play innocent, turning back around in her chair and trying to pretend the fact that her chair is two feet from where it had started has nothing to do with her. _

_When the teacher goes back to her corner and pushes Santana back to where she should be, reminding her that she was having quiet time, Santana renewed her glare towards the wall, watching out the corner of her eye to see that the teacher was occupied before she turned back around and whispered to Rachel again. _

_"See? It's your fault. They all like you 'cause you're a sucky face. You get me in trouble and I don't get NOTHING. I'm gonna get you."_

_Rachel closes her eyes, letting out a small sigh. Santana will probably trip her, or pull her hair. Maybe, most likely, call her a lot of mean names and get the other kids to laugh at her. That's usually how it goes whenever she manages to make Santana upset... So she goes back to her drawing. There's no point in trying to fight the inevitable now. Santana's got her eyes on her, and Rachel will pay for... whatever she did as soon as the teacher is more than a few feet away._

_Santana is not a patient child, but she manages to wait the five minutes until the teacher tells her she can get up from the quiet corner. It takes her less than thirty seconds to grab Rachel's drawing, rip it in four pieces, and then crumble the pieces up into a ball that she throws at her. Now they can't say how pretty Rachel's drawing is._

_Shocked, unable to do anything but stare, Rachel takes the crumbled ball and pieces of what had been a drawing and holds them in her lap as Santana runs off to play with the other kids. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she carefully unfolds the fall, then the pieces, and places them on her desk in order. She doesn't cry, but she blinks heavily, staring at the drawing and wondering what she keeps doing wrong._

_The drawing, consisting of a poorly drawn dog with a frowny face and gold stars, is simple, and in her messy, scrawly handwriting, the words "I'm sorry" on it. She decides Santana wouldn't want it anyway, especially since she tore it up. So she quietly stacks the pieces ontop of one one another, puts them in her desk, and lays her head down, waiting for recess._

_**88**_

"Hm... Sometimes, you really made me sad," Rachel says quietly, recalling that memory with perfect clarity. She had gone home, pieces of the drawing in hand, and stared at them for almost twenty minutes before giving in and finally throwing them away.

"I was always hoping you'd smile at me, or that we could be friends. I think that's why it hurt more when you were mean than the other kids. I didn't care what they thought of me, after awhile. I was always wishing you'd think better of me, though."

Santana frowns, running her fingers through Rachel's hair, and gently kisses her forehead, her nose, then her lips, trying to take the sting of the memory away.

"I'm sorry. I was a little bitch...I don't know why I was like that." She gives a short laugh, shaking her head.

"Yeah I do. Doesn't excuse it though. I...I wish i wasn't like that." She goes quiet for a few minutes, stroking Rachel's hair. "You didn't deserve it."

Kissing Santana gently on the lips, Rachel smiled.

"It's in the past. And besides, this is where we are now. You holding me, loving me. You gave me the most beautiful prom night I ever could have dreamed of. And I forgave you a long time ago, Santana." Then, a teasing smirk. "Besides, you wouldn't have been you if you hadn't been a little imp. And if you hadn't never blackmailed me… well… I think everything turned out for the best."

Santana kisses Rachel back, rubbing her hand up and down Rachel's arm. She could hardly believe herself that Rachel was now HER dream, as well as her reality.

"I guess so…this is really weird though, you know? Considering."

Rachel snorted. "I do. But it's a nice weird."

She shifted then, pushing Santana onto her back and settling down on top of her, head on the girl's chest, sighing in contentment. "Mmm. It's four am, baby...sleep."

Santana leaned her head into Rachel's, wrapping her arms around Rachel to mold her more comfortably against her, and breathed out, shifting her legs so that Rachel's is in between hers.

"You're not cold now. Mmm."

"It's because you're so good at keeping me warm," Rachel replied, her eyes already closed as she snuggled into her girlfriend a little more firmly.

Santana rubbed her head up and down Rachel's back, pressing her lips to the top of her head. Closing her eyes, she relaxes completely- even as she squeezes Rachel's ass.


	58. Chapter 58

"Santana? Are you in here?" Rachel knocked on her bathroom door, impatient. "The movie is starting and you promised me cuddles."

Now hunched over the toilet, Santana freezes with her fingers halfway inserted in her mouth, her head jerking up so hard she almost scratches herself. Sitting up quickly, she clears her throat, calling out.

"Yeah, coming. Hold your horses."

Looking down at the toilet, then back at the door, Santana grits her teeth, knowing she can't do what she had wanted to with Rachel right outside the door. Slowly getting to her feet, she rebuttons her shirt and pulls her pants back up, taking a deep breath as she rejoins her.

"Okay, ready."

"Ok, ready."

Kissing Santana happily, Rachel takes Santana's hands in hers and pulls her into the bedroom with a grin.

"Don't look so grouchy. Your hair looks fine, and your lips as kissable as ever."

Rachel giggles, licking her lips as she lets go of Santana's hands and scoots up onto her bed. Santana kisses her back but isn't responding as quickly as she normally would, and her eyes look distant. She lets Rachel pull her back to the bed without comment, but as they lay down, she flinches slightly when Rachel's hands brush her stomach. She doesn't want them to touch it. Quickly taking Rachel's hands in hers, she lowers them, but she doesn't want them touching her thighs either; both are not satisfactory places. She finally takes her hands and pulls them up to her chest, over her heart.

Mildly confused, but figuring Santana is still just a little touchy about her body, Rachel smiles as she can feel Santana's heartbeat. She leans in, cuddling close and resting her head against Santana's chest and putting her arm over her waist.

"I love you… And not just because you're letting me watch Funny Girl for the second time in two days."

Resting her head against Rachel's, Santana kisses the top of her hair. But her heart is beating a little fast, and her reply to Rachel is slow.

"Love you too or something, obsessive fan girl."

Rachel's hand on her waist is too close for comfort to her stomach, though, and Santana can't stop thinking that Rachel must be feeling her "love handles." She takes the hand in hers again, shifting it further up her side and around to her back. Even as she tries to relax, she keeps thinking, over and over, about the fact that she did not get to make herself purge herself of how she feels about her body in this moment. She doesn't resent Rachel for it, exactly, but anxiety is slowly starting to pulse through her, and she is counting how many minutes it might be until she can find a way.

Finally, noticing that Santana has yet to relax, Rachel sighs, sitting up and removing herself from around Santana's body, frowning.

"Is something wrong…?" She bites her lip, taking Santana's closest hand in her own. "We can just talk, if you want. We don't have to watch the movie. Or we could watch one of your horror films?"

Santana hesitates, then shakes her head, giving her a brief grimace as she goes with the first thought that pops into her head as a cover.

"No, we can watch it. Just, my stomach hurts. I'm probably getting sick or something."

Never mind that she never admits she's sick until she can't possibly deny it any longer in normal circumstances. This seems to Santana to be an okay cover, if she can't wait until she's not around Rachel to throw up. At least she would have given her "warning" and provided an explanation of why.

Her frown deepening, Rachel looks at Santana with concern. She presses the back of her hand to Santana's forehead and cheek, noting that Santana does seem to be sweating a bit.

"You do feel a little hot… I hope your not getting that virus you had earlier in the year again… Should I get you something? Water maybe? I can run downstairs quickly and grab you some water and Tylenol if you'd like."

"Maybe…"

Santana keeps her voice deliberately vague and fuzzy and doesn't meet Rachel's eyes. She can't look her straight on when she knows she's lying to her, when she's doing something that will hurt her, if she figures it out.

"Yeah, can you do that, please?"

Surely she'll have enough time to do what she needs to, because knowing Rachel, she'll take time to bring up something extra and sweet like a flower or stuffed animal or something too. Sure, she's going to feel like a lying shithead over this, but Santana has to do this. She's been trying so hard to ignore what she knows, to just pretend she's okay with her body, her weight, trying so hard she had just let herself look worse and worse in her own eyes. It's almost to the point now, she's certain, where she can't undo the damage all this ignoring and trying has done. What if she can't lose weight no matter how hard she tries?

She's been letting it go way too long, something has to be done and it has to be right now, before it's too late, NOW.

Too concerned with Santana possibly being sick now, Rachel doesn't notice the strange behavior, figuring it's just Santana not liking to admit she isn't feeling well.

"Alright. I'll be back soon."

Pauses the movie, kissing Santana on the lips quickly, giving her a small, caring smile before pausing the movie and heading downstairs, the door closing partially behind her.

"Thanks…can you get me crushed ice? Please…"

Santana figures that will maybe take another minute or two extra, and she can use all the time she can get. Maybe this makes her a lying asshole of a girlfriend, but she's not overly concerned with this right now. She's just anxious for Rachel to get out of the room so she can get through with this.

She waits until she can hear Rachel's footsteps disappearing down the hall before she leaps up and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her and again falling to her knees. Shaking her hair behind her shoulders, she wastes no time in shoving her index finger down her throat, taking no effort at all to be gentle or careful with herself. Santana tries to be quiet about it even though she knows she has a cover story regardless; she would still be mortified for Rachel to hear. When she has finished she flushes the toilet and rinses out her mouth, then staggers to her feet, lightheaded, and is lying back down on the bed when Rachel returns, as though she's been there the whole time.

Rachel takes her time, figuring Santana needs a little space as well, as the girl usually does when she's a little moody. She hums to herself as she gets the water and ice. As a last minute thought, she puts a lemon and a twisty straw in the water glass. Finally, about five or six minutes later, she makes her way back upstairs, grabbing the Tylenol as she passes the downstairs bathroom.

"Water, medicine, and crushed ice for my lovely girlfriend."

Rachel sets the things on the nightstand next to Santana, sitting on the edge of the bed in case Santana still wants some space, smiling.

"The lemon is for flavor. And your throat. It sounded a little scratchy before, probably from the possible cold. I thought it might help. If not you can just take it out."

Santana barely meets Rachel's eyes. The shame at her deception, especially when her girlfriend is being so sweet and attentive, has choked her throat and made tight and unsettle her stomach to the point she almost feels like she actually is sick. She swallows several times, blinking back the tears coming to her eyes, and prays if Rachel sees she thinks of this as further evidence of illness.

"Thanks…"

Reaching out, she sips the water and takes the pills with some difficulty, then curls into a ball. It dawns on her how generally Rachel is afraid of germs, and how much she must be forcing herself to be attentive now, and this time two tears do escape before she can stop it. She really is such a horrible bitch.

**88**

For the past couple of weeks or so Rachel had noticed a change in Santana.

She was colder, for one. Something that had _never _been. The Latina had always been the warmer of the two, and Rachel tended to use that to her own advantage for cuddling on more than one occasion.

Santana was also a lot more tired than usual. Granted, due to practices and her own terrible sleep schedule her girlfriend did tend to be less energetic than Rachel in the mornings or late evenings… But… But that had never stopped Santana from having _sex_… If anything it just meant she'd have Rachel go down on her, or ride her, or something. Santana was nothing if not creative to a fault when it came to their sex life.

Now, though, Rachel hadn't seen her girlfriend naked in what felt like ages. And any time she tried imitating, Santana found a way to stop it. Of course, not that Rachel needed excuses. if the girl didn't want sex, Rachel would never push. It was just… Santana _always wanted sex_.

This sudden idea that her girlfriend wasn't interested… Or even felt the need to excuse why…

At first Rachel had figured it was Santana felt sick, of course. But then… Then Santana never really… stopped being sick, it seemed.

And that was worrying Rachel the most.

The girl was always excusing herself, citing a stomach ache. Or a a headache. And… and Rachel was sure that Santana was getting slimmer. At first she hadn't noticed, having only seen Santana in clothes for awhile now, but… She looked different, in her Cheerio's skirts. Her thighs, usually robust and strong looking, didn't seem… _right_.

Everything about what was unfolding scared Rachel.

She was just hoping that, come the weekend when Santana would be staying over, she could finally get her girlfriend to open up about it.

And truly, truly Rachel prayed it was not what she thought it was.

Almost every day now Santana was disgusted with herself, hating what she had started to do again, after such a significant length of time that it had been better. That SHE had been better. She hated being controlled by her own thoughts, her own feelings, hated that she was putting aside the concerns and caring of everyone else in her life to give in to her own weakness. She hated that she was lying and hiding and evading them all every day, that she was again making herself into a person that she was ashamed of rather than one she could be proud of. She hated it- and yet she could not seem to make herself stop.

She didn't know what it was that had triggered the old familiar thoughts and urges so much more strongly than they had been lately. Maybe it was because Brittany was now so busy with her dancing that she didn't see her as often. Maybe it was because Rachel had had a busy summer too, and in between the two of them, she had spent enough time alone or tagging along with Quinn and Puck that she was starting to feel like a loser. Maybe it was because she didn't have Cheerios over the summer and she felt like she wasn't getting nearly enough exercise as a result. Maybe it was because she had to, just had to be head Cheerio if she wanted to look good on her college applications, and she had to take home a nationals championship this year after making them lose last year, and she had to get more songs in Glee and she had to make sure her grades were still good and she didn't have a clue what she wanted to do or where she wanted to go to college or what would happen once they graduated and this was her LAST YEAR to figure it out.

She was going to graduate this year, GRADUATE, that meant she couldn't be a kid anymore or taken care of anymore or even know what to expect day to day anymore, and all her friends would be growing up too and moving on and how could she survive that? How was she going to get through every day without Brittany there and without Rachel and how could she choose one over the other, and what if their college choices were far apart and she couldn't see one of them anymore at all?

Every time Santana thought about her future she began to feel so anxious she felt like she couldn't breathe and her heart would beat right out of her chest. She tried her best not to think about it at all, and inevitably she began to turn back to what she knew she could control, what was something she could focus on in excruciating detail right here and right now. Her exercise, her eating, and her weight.

Because she had been doing fairly well, Maribel had eased off her hawk-like watch over her daughter, and had in fact recently picked up more hours again at work. This made it considerably easier to hide it from her as well. Santana began to wake up very early in the morning, before either parent was awake, to run, and she would creep back into the house, her limbs already shaking, to get back into bed for another twenty minutes so she could pretend to have just awakened. Of course she ran again once her parents were awake to see her go to do so, and she often managed a third run as well when they were out for the evening. She never ate any meal that her parents were not home to witness or that Rachel or another friend was not having with her, and those where she was required to eat in front of someone, she either ate and then found a way to rid herself of it later, through punishing exercise or purging, or else she talked throughout the meal and kept the other person laughing so they wouldn't notice how little she ate, or the fact that she was hiding food in her napkin.

Santana started to fake headaches and cramps from periods, although she was actually no longer receiving her period very regularly or heavily at all, so she could get away with looking listless or eating less. Although it was the height of summer, she started to wear pants to hide her slimming legs and layered t-shirts to hide her weight loss, even as she felt that she couldn't really be losing weight at all. It didn't take long for her carefully maintained 115 pounds, the minimum her mother had set her at months ago, dipped down considerably. When the day came that the scale stopped at 107.5, Santana could barely contain herself with her flash of joy. She remembered the weight Rachel had shared with her; it was engraved into her mind. 107. She could totally beat that out if she tried harder. She was sure of it now.

The only problem would be hiding this from Rachel.

88

Santana was pretty sure she had hidden from both Rachel and her mother how much weight she had lost. She could excuse away from undressing in front of Rachel by declaring how tired she was, trying to make sure she was in shape for Cheerios when school started up again. She could say that it was that time of the month and she had cramps, and for a while she had stretched out having a stomach virus for as long as she could fake it without Rachel being alarmed enough to insist she see a doctor. She could just guide her into cuddling and kissing instead, then act sleepy and snuggly when Rachel started to get turned on. It wasn't as hard as she would have thought. Her libido had recently crashed, and she was so embarrassed at the thought of Rachel seeing her undressed that she had no real desire for sex anymore. And she was cold all the time. She didn't know how long she'd be able to stand being naked, especially with Rachel's cold feet and hands on her. She was starting to understand why the girl wore footy pajamas all the time, not that she'd ever say so, because lately, Santana was friggin' freezing.

Tonight was an approved sleepover night by their parents, and as Santana curled up to Rachel in bed, her head on her shoulder, she guided Rachel's touch in what she thought to be a sneaky and smooth manner, avoiding her stomach, hips, rib cage, and collar bone and instead focusing most of her attentions on her lips and breasts- her breasts, being amplified, obviously hadn't changed since her weight loss, although Santana did think they somehow looked strange now in a way she couldn't quite identify. She closed her eyes, realizing she genuinely was tired, her body aching all over. Maybe squeezing in that fourth run today had been a bit much even if it was relatively short. She closed her eyes, shivering as she burrowed in closer to Rachel for warmth as much as affection, and found herself drifting off to sleep.

Rachel lay awake, completely restless. She was snuggled up to Santana, her arms trapped between their chests, Santana's arm flung over her. It was somewhat a normal position, but she couldn't shake how… how much smaller Santana felt.

She'd been debating with herself over confronting her girlfriend for the better part of an hour since Santana had fallen asleep, and finally, when the girl shivered slightly in her sleep for the enth time… Rachel couldn't let it go anymore.

She moved a bit, shaking Santana lightly. "Santana? Sweetie, wake up please."

There was no response, at all. Figuring the Latina was simply in a very deep sleep due to tiredness, she tried again, more persistent, unable to keep from trembling as she felt how boney the girl's shoulder felt. Santana had always had somewhat narrow shoulders, but they had been fairly padded with muscle. Not extreme muscle, of course- the chearleader was lithe. But muscle all the same. Now it just felt…

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she shook Santana harder.

"Santana, please. We really need to talk."

Again, no response. Not even to move away. Biting her lip Rachel leaned in, and then her eyes went wide in panic.

"Santana, wake up! Wake up, please!"

The girl's breaths were so shallow Rachel had barely been able to make them out. She rolled her girlfriend on her back, pressing her ear to Santana's chest, hands shaking as she realized her heart was beating so _slowly._

"D-dad! Daddy, Dad!" she cried out, tears forming in her eyes as she continued trying to wake Santana up.

Her body felt even colder, and as Hiram and Leroy burst in, moments later both on the phone; one with 911 and the other with Maribel, Rachel was sobbing.


	59. Chapter 59

When Santana started to awaken, her eyes felt hot and heavy, as though they didn't quite want to open. Her thoughts too were sluggish and slow, and yet the first thing she thought as she struggled to come fully awake was that she would need to run extra far this morning to shake off her weariness. If she could outrun it, then she would be off to a better start.

But when she tried to turn over onto her side, she realized that she couldn't do it. There was a sharp pricking pain in her arm, and she couldn't seem to lift it or control it like she wanted to. Her foot kicked against something unfamiliar, hard, and metal, and when Santana opened her eyes, confused, she soon realized that she had no idea where she was.

It took several more moments for her blurred eyes to take in the fact that she was in a bed with bars at the sides, that the object that had hurt her arm when she tried to move it was an IV of some kind. Still the dots did not connect, and it wasn't until she heard her mother's voice speak her name from the other side of the bed, the side she had not been facing, and she tried and failed to turn her head to face her that she understood suddenly where she was.

She was in a hospital. How was she in a hospital? She wasn't sick, she wasn't hurt…had they dragged her there while she was sleeping? How could they do that? They couldn't do that to her! She had to go run now, and she couldn't eat hospital food, it was fattening and disgusting. They couldn't do this!

"Mami-" she started, her voice scratchy, but Maribel, having come to stand beside her, shushed her, brushing her hair back from her forehead. Santana saw tears standing in her mother's eyes as she leaned forward, kissing her.

"Shh, mija, it's all right. You're going to be all right, mi corazon. Lo siento…lo siento, baby."

"What…" Santana tried again to sit up, but her mother's gentle hands pushed her back down. "Why am I here? I'm not…Mami, I don't need-"

"Listen to me," her mother instructed her, putting a finger to her lips and lightly pressing at her shoulders again as she tried to make her lie back down. "Be still, mija. Listen to me." She began to stroke Santana's hair back from her face, trying to calm her before she explained quietly. "We couldn't wake you. Your papi, and the other doctor, they say that you have lost too much weight, you did not have enough hydration or enough energy through food, and your body, it…you know animals, Santana, who sleep for the winter? Your body tried to do that for you, to store up calories and energy, to keep you alive. You were using too much and not…not putting enough back in. You're too thin, sweetheart, and I am sorry I did not see, but it will not happen again. You will be all right. This time, I will make sure you will be all right."

She continued to stroke Santana's hair, but Santana was becoming upset now, remembering. She had been with Rachel. She had been with Rachel, and she had gone to sleep. Where was Rachel, what was she going to think?

But even more than that, she was becoming upset by what her mother had said. she couldn't do this, she couldn't stay in the hospital, and her mother couldn't know. Rachel couldn't know. They couldn't!

"Mami, I'm not staying, I'm fine! I'm okay, I'm fine!"

Her mother ignored her, stroking her hair one more time. "I'm going to tell Rachel you're awake, you want to talk with her you can before the doctor comes back in."

But as she left the room Santana was struggling again to sit up, driving herself towards panic. This couldn't be happening, not like this.

Rachel walked in to see Santana struggling to sit up, and, quietly still in tears she spoke quietly "P-please lay down, Santana…" When the girl stopped, staring at her, Rachel couldn't handle it anymore. She practically collapsed into the chair next to Santana's bed, sobbing.

"Y-you wouldn't wake up.I tried to wake you and you wouldn't open your eyes. And you were barely breathing. I thought— I thought you were—" Rachel couldn't finish. She was shaking, badly, gripping her skirt tightly and looking down at her lap as tears streamed down her cheek.

"Rachel…" Santana herself is still upset, but she freezes in the face of Rachel's tears. She bites her lip, reaching out her hand to her but being unable to touch her from the distance. "Rachel, I'm okay…calm down. But I have to get out of here. Can't you tell them I'm okay now, I was just sleeping. You guys freaked out over nothing, I was just sleeping. Can't you calm down and just tell them that?"

"You could have died!" cried Rachel, a sob escaping her throat. She swallowed hard, sobbing, and clutched at the sheets over Santana's legs. "You- you almost— you were so _cold_, Santana." Another sob, her words choking in her throat. "I t-tried to wake you up. I tried _everything_. But you— You wouldn't—" Rachel broke down completely then, unable to go on.

All she remembered was Santana's icy skin, her paled face, and her slow, slow heart beat,

"I thought I lost you," sobbed the girl, eyes red and vision blurry. "I thought you were— g-gone. Forever. You h-had died in my bed. And— and I—" Again, she lost all ability to speak, breaking down completely and unable to stop crying, the image of a cold, almost lifeless Santana still fresh in her mind.

Santana bites her lip, her heart compressing in response to Rachel's obvious grief and fear. She can't stand to see it, to look anywhere near her face, let alone her eyes, and hearing Rachel's heavy weeping is unbearable. She takes several breaths in, swallowing hard, but she can't escape it, any of it- and she can't escape her own knowledge that she is the one who brought this on her.

She is the one making Rachel cry like this. She is the one scaring her to the point she is practically choking for breath.

But Rachel had overreacted…hadn't she? Santana was just asleep. She was just really, really tired. And Rachel kept her house so cold…didn't she?

But Santana knows, even as she tries to tell herself this, that this is not true. Rachel's house has only recently seemed cold to her- along with every other building she's in. Including the hospital now. Even lying here with the heat of Rachel's tears and emotions and both of their adrenaline so high, Santana is shivering. And this isn't typical of her…she knows that.

It's also not typical of her to sleep so deeply. She's always liked her sleep, but she also has always been able to be awakened easily enough, even if she was none too happy to get moving. Still…she was just tired. Just…being tired wasn't worth putting someone in the hospital.

But even as she lay here now, with her girlfriend sobbing her heart out, as terrible as it made her feel, in the back of her mind, Santana was already calculating with some remote urgency how much time she had lost sleeping so long today, lying on her back on the hospital bed. She had already missed the first two runs of the day, and surely that was catching up with her. Could she have already gained weight? How could she have slept so long?

And it was this that really struck her to her core. Because here was Rachel, as upset as she had ever seen her…and she was still thinking about FUCKING RUNNING.

There was something wrong with her…this was wrong. This was wrong, so wrong, and as this hit her, remembering her mother's tears, hearing Rachel's then, Santana took another shuddering breath in as her own throat choked, her own eyes filled with tears.

"Rachel," she whispered, barely hearing her own voice over the other girl's sobbing. "Rachel, I…this…" tears started to stream down her own face, and she tried to roll over onto her side, so she would be facing away from her.

The IVs in her arms pull painfully, preventing her from doing this, and she gasps, sucking in her breath, as the tears come faster. She can't even have the mobility to cover her face, like she wants to, let alone hide in any other way. She can't escape this, she can't cover herself in any way, and this new understanding of how completely helpless and bare she really is only intensifies her tears. She can't even reach out far enough to be able to touch Rachel, to try to comfort her.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, the words torn apart by her sobs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Rachel reached out, though, grasping Santana's hand and gripping it hard, her own hand shaking as she breathed in, trying to get a hold of herself. She looked up to Santana, eyes still full of tears. "I trusted you," she choked out. "You promised you were— and I thought— I didn't want to push, or make you think I didn't believe in you. I _do_. But… Santana I can't keep…"

She swallowed hard, sniffling and leaning down to rest her forehead against the back of her girlfriend's hand. "I **_love_ you**. So **much**. And I almost lost you. And it _hurts_." Looking up again, letting out a trembling breath of air, Rachel wiped her tears on the sleeve of her free arm. "You _need _to get **_help _**Santana. _Please_. Because… I don't… I can't handle… This? Seeing you like this? Feeling you, _seeing you _almost die in my arms in my bed? I don't think I can survive that again," whispered the smaller girl, tears already beginning to stream down her cheeks again.

Santana squeezes Rachel's hand, closing her eyes so tightly a crease forms in the middle of each eyelid. She doesn't want to look at her, doesn't want to see Rachel's pain, doesn't want to hear it in her voice. But she can't escape it, and she can't deny that she is its cause. She did this. Her actions, her decisions, her choices…her sickness. She cannot deny that she is sick. Not anymore.

Tears continue to leak steadily out of her closed eyes, and she sobs, listening to what Rachel has to say. She hears the implication- that Rachel would leave her. That maybe she would even die herself, or at least want to.

"I'm s-sorry," she repeats, her voice small, stuttering and stammering. "I know…I-I-I know…"

Chest heaving, she tries to calm down with little success, high pitched whimpering noises escaping her throat. She squeezes Rachel's hand, wanting to hold her, wanting to be held by her, and knowing right now that would be almost impossible.

Sighing heavily, blinking away more tears, Rachel scooted as close to Santana as she could. She continued to hold her hand tightly, not saying a word, as she was unsure of what to say.

Her thoughts were largely that she felt incapable of handling this. That she wasn't sure she could continue to be with Santana if Santana didn't even seem to care about her own health, or how this affected the people around her. But most importantly, it terrified Rachel to think about how close she had come to losing the girl forever, and the thought of it happening again…

She was a teenager. Matured for her age, yes. But still, she knew that this was something where she just couldn't deal healthily over and over again. Having already lost sleep, Rachel was exhausted in every way, and she wondered if she would have nightmares of waking up to a cold, lifeless Santana Lopez.

Rachel also knew that she'd have to start seeing her therapist on the regular again, as she could already feel her anxiety begin to sky rocket.

There were so many things to be scared of right now, and even though Santana was alive and holding her hand like a lifeline, all Rachel could think about was whether or not, when Santana was released, if a few months later they'd be right back here again.

Or worse, burying her.

Santana continued to weep for several minutes, giving up on trying to stop herself. She kept her eyes closed, holding Rachel's hand, and only when she had exhausted herself to the point she was having to suck in her breaths did she finally taper off. She wipes at her face and nose with the back of the hand not clutching Rachel's, then uses the hospital sheet, before finally opening her eyes and making herself look at Rachel. Making herself really see her, and herself, reflected in Rachel's eyes.

"I know," she says quietly, a little unsteady, but intently. "I know. Rachel, I…" she swallows, then forces the words out, for the first time, understanding just how vital they really are. "I know I have to change and…I will. I promise. I'm….this time, I will."

She forces the next words out, no matter how frightened they make her to consider, let alone say. "If…if this is too much, and you need to leave…I understand."

Rachel looks at Santana, meeting her eyes and swallowing audibly. "I'm not leaving you," she whispered, almost hoarsely. "I just… I need to know that… I think we should… be on a break. Of sorts. Not- Not broken up. But… until you're healthy again, _really _healthy, we just… need to pull back. You-" she swallows again. "You need to focus on _you_. Not me, and not us. And maybe… maybe I need to focus a little on me, too, and not just you or our relationship."

She lifts Santana's hand up, kissing her knuckles softly and resting her forehead against their hands. "I love you, so much. As much as a 17 year old can truly love anyone, Santana Lopez." The smaller girl looks back up at her girlfriend, and lets out a shuddering breath of air. "I'm going to support you. I am. But I want you to… Just focus on loving _yourself_, Santana. And I'll do the same, okay? You're going to get better. I know you are, because I believe in you. And I will **_always_ **believe in you."

Santana digested this, taking a few more breaths, and a couple more tears spilled over. Still, she nods, accepting this, holding onto her hands.

"Okay."

She doesn't want to have to do this. She is terrified at the prospect of losing Rachel, of having to dig deeper and harder into exactly what she doesn't want to face. But she knows she has to, and some part of her now wants to. For Rachel, for Brittany, for her mother, for those who do care, if not herself.

88

Calls

**Brittany:***grabs her phone and answers with a smile* Hey there.

**Santana:**(deep breath out) Hey.

**Brittany:**You doing okay?

**Santana:**(another deep breath, swallows) N-no...**  
Brittany:**What's wrong, Santana?

**Santana:**I...Brittany, I'm in the hospital... (voice shaking)**  
Brittany:***doesn't speak for a moment* You're okay though right- I mean you're you so of course you are, but you're not hurt or anything are you? Like- Like you didn't die in a car crash or something right?

**Santana:**(laughs shakily) No, I'm not dead. (swallows again, knuckles whitening around the phone) I'm...I sort of couldn't wake up.**  
Brittany:***sighs heavily* Good. You didn't wake up? I don't get it, you're awake now...

**Santana:**(starting to cry quietly) They said I'm sick.

**Santana:**(sniffing, taking deep breaths to try to calm down) No...I...I lost more weight

.**Brittany:**Santana...

**Santana:**(that one word is enough to get her crying again) I'm sorry. I know. I'm sorry...

**Brittany:**No, San, don't. I'm sure you didn't mean to end up in the hospital. Can... Can I come see you or...?

**Santana:**Yes...please. Please come see me. Tomorrow. (trying to calm down again, sniffling) Mami keeps crying and Rachel was and I feel so bad, Brittany. They thought I was dead.

**Brittany:**'Kay, I'll come. That's pretty terrifying, I would probably cry too, had I been there and all. You can't feel bad though, you'll drive yourself nuts.

**Santana:**I'm already nuts. I'm in the HOSPITAL! **  
Brittany:**You're not nuts, you're /sick/. There's a difference.  
**Santana:**(voice drops) Yeah. (deep breath in, releasingng, Brittany. it shakily) I'm...yeah. I'm sick.**  
Brittany:**But, you're like the strongest person I know so it's only a matter of time before you get un-sick.

**Santana:**(long pause, whispers) I'm not strong.**  
Brittany:**Yes, you are- you're the strongest person ever. You're like, a miniature hulk.

**Santana:**No I'm not. I just pretend that.**  
Brittany:**Whatever, you're still really strong to me.

88

The day had been very long and very emotional for Santana. She had awakened disoriented, frightened, and weak initially, barely able to stay awake or think logically through the situation she had found herself to be in. The hospital was too bright, too quiet, and too lonely. Santana hated to be alone in her bed, unable to get up by herself, for even a few minutes. She hated being unable to move very much, being unable to do her normal routine, or even to walk around. She hated being hooked up to IVs, knowing that every drip into her body was giving her added nourishment, helping to add calories and fat into her body. She hated knowing that starting tomorrow, she would have to eat hospital food, that it would undoubtedly be fattening and unappetizing, and she would not be able to get up by herself to work it off or vomit it up. She hated that she was missing school and Cheerios and Glee, that people might somehow know or gossip about the reason for her absence.

But mostly she hated knowing that she was hurting the people she loved by being here, by what she had done to herself to wind up here. When she thought of Rachel, sobbing her heart out as she gripped her hand, telling her that she needed a break, that she couldn't bear to think of losing her, that she had thought she had died…Santana could not think about that without tearing up again, without feeling a strong grief she could not easily push away. When she thought of Brittany's voice, raw with shock, on the phone, of her mother's shaking hand stroking her hair, she knew simultaneously that she was deeply loved, and also that she had caused deep hurt.

Santana spent most of that first day crying, on and off. Sometimes because she was feeling so bad about hurting others, sometimes because she herself was physically weak and aching and frustrated by her body's limitations. Sometimes because she was frightened of what was going to happen to her now, sometimes because she was sure that already, she was gaining weight; sometimes, because she was afraid of what might happen if she didn't. Sometimes, because she was lonely, sometimes, because someone was being kind. And sometimes, Santana had no idea why she was crying at all; she only knew she could not quite stop.

After Rachel had left, it was another hour or so before her mother came back to her. Santana had been checked over by a nurse and had drifted off into a light doze before she felt her mother's fingers in her hair, stroking gently. When she opened her eyes, hoping at first that it was Rachel, returned to her, she had only been slightly disappointed to see her mother. Reaching up to her for her hand automatically, she had squeezed hard when Maribel took it, rubbing her thumb over its back.

"Hi, baby," Maribel said softly, her hand pausing in her hair. "You do not have to wake up yet if you are not ready. I will still be here."

"I'm ready," Santana mumbled, starting to sit up and flinching at the movement.

Maribel stopped her with a hand to her shoulder, gently pressing her down, and then helped her move onto her side, facing the wall. Still sitting as close to her as she could get in the chair beside the hospital bed, she held the hand closest to her, her other hand beginning to slowly rub over Santana's back. For a few minutes they were both silent, Santana taking deep breaths in, tears already welling up at her mother's tender, rhythmic touch. When she whispered that she was sorry, her mother's hand stilled, and she heard her draw in a slow breath before she responded.

"Are you ready to listen to me now, mija?"

Santana nodded slowly, after a brief hesitation, catching her lower lip between her teeth. She felt Maribel stroke her hair back from her face, then both hands were removed from her as Maribel stood, carrying her chair with her, and sat down in front of Santana, on the side of her bed closest to the wall. Taking up her hand again, she held it gently, looking her daughter in the eyes as she spoke with her.

"I love you," she said with quiet intensity. "Mi Corazon, siempre…siempre. I love you more than I have ever loved anything or anyone in this world. And that is why I will do whatever it takes to make certain you are here for me to continue to love. Whatever it takes, Santana Veronica."

She paused, watching her, making sure she was listening, before continuing. "You will not love and care for yourself, and so this will now be my responsibility to do it for you. Until you can care for yourself as a young woman should and must, I will take care of you as though you were a little girl. I do not want to do this, and I wish with all my heart it was not a necessity. But it is, and until you can show me that it is no longer needed, so it will be."

Santana tensed, waiting for her to further explain herself, biting the inside of her cheeks. Maribel rubbed her hand up and down her shoulder, squeezing gently, and resumed her caressing of Santana's hair as she went on.

"I will not tell you how much you weigh, Santana. Suffice it to say that it is not enough by far-"

"Is it less than Rachel?" Santana blurted before she could stop herself, then was sorry for it at the look of mingled unbelief and anger in her mother's eyes.

"I would not know what Rachel weighs, nor would I care to ask her, nor does it matter," Maribel leaned towards her as she answered, her voice even more intent now. "My concern is that your weight is dangerously unhealthy. Not the exact number, not how it stands in comparison to another child's. My concern is that your body could not tolerate the abuse you inflicted upon it, and that the disregard you have for yourself is so extreme that you clearly did not care what damage you caused."

Santana tried to avert her eyes, shamed. She could barely hear her own muttered apology, and her mother acknowledged it with a stiff nod before speaking again.

"There will be rules, Santana. First, there will be no more Cheerios. Not for the rest of this year. Clearly it is unhealthy for you and I will not have you involved in something that is deteriorating your well-being."

Santana had figured on this, although it was still a blow to hear. She thinned her lips, nodding, even as her eyes teared. How was she going to stay popular, no longer on Cheerios? How could she excuse work outs? Maribel's expression softened slightly, and she squeezed her hand.

"No sleepovers at all," she continued. "Not until you have reached your minimum required weight, which is now 117 pounds. I was generous before, but you now at bare minimum must weigh your bare minimum healthy weight for your height. 115 is no longer acceptable. You have quite a ways to go, Santana, and I am not budging on this. If you fall below 112 pounds at any time, you will go to a doctor to determine whether hospitalization is needed. Brittany and Rachel may sleep over at our home, but their presence will not excuse or distract from meals. When you have reached your required weight, you may stay with them only with my approval and only after I have had a conversation with their families. For now, you will be sleeping every night with me. This is to make sure that you do not wake up to work out-" here she eyed her shrewdly- "or to get rid of what you have eaten. My presence will make sure you remain in bed and have the rest you need."

At this Santana's tears overflowed, panic closing around her heart. Two extra pounds? No longer having even a little bit of a "cushion", no longer being able to stay at someone else's place…having nowhere to hide, nowhere to escape? She had told Rachel she would get better, that she would try as hard as she could to win out over this…but being told exactly how this would be accomplished, being given no choice except to do so, was overwhelming to hear, even scary. Maribel waited patiently, holding her hand and occasionally reaching out to thumb away her tears, and when Santana had calmed down a little, went on with her list.

"There will be no workouts of any kind, except for yoga to reduce your stress in the evenings, and I will do it with you and watch you," she told her. "I will be taking a family medical leave from work, so rest assured, I will have much time on my hands to be here for you and keep you safe. You will not return to school until you are at your minimum healthy weight. You will eat at every meal and just like before, I will stay with you afterward to help you and be with you. You will be seeing a therapist twice a week…you may attend Glee, because I do believe you need to have a healthy outlet for your feelings with your peers. But you will do no strenuous dancing or movements. Mr. Shuester and I have already had a talk and he understands and is just as concerned that you get well."

She seemed to be finished then as she stopped talking. As Santana struggled to take this all in, to process and accept what she was being told, tears continued to trickle down her cheeks, but she nodded, taking a shaky breath. She knew what she had to do, and she knew that her mother, more than anyone else, would make sure she did it, however she had to get the job done.

"Okay," she whispered, and then, the words difficult in coming, "Thank you."

There were tears briefly shimmering in Maribel's eyes too as she squeezed Santana's hand, then leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

"You have given me strength before I ever laid eyes on you," she told her daughter softly, her face still close. "I know you are strong enough to do this."

She sat with her then in quiet, holding her hand, until Santana felt herself drifting off again. This time, she felt no anger in her mother's words, only a weary acceptance and apprehension of what she knew would have to happen. But it would happen…with her mother's, Brittany's, and Rachel's belief in her, how could she let them down?

88


	60. Chapter 60

Brittany felt terrible, she had been so wrapped up in her own problems that she had completely missed everything with Santana- she'd missed her almost dying. That was huge and quite terrifying. Santana must've thought she was the worst best friend ever. But even though she hadn't been there, the important thing was that Santana was okay, she was alive and that was all that mattered.

Brittany adjusted her favorite stuffed animal in her purse so it wouldn't stick out before getting out of her car and heading towards the large building. She was somewhat nervous to see Santana again. She had said she'd lost weight but she was already so thin, Brittany was worried her best friend would look and seem different. In a way, it was kind of scary for her.

Somehow Brittany had miscounted, sending her to the other side of the building and had to have a nurse bring her to Santana's room. She quietly knocked on the door as she let herself in.

"Hey San." She softly smiled. "I brought you something, will they let you keep presents?"

The blonde was still nervous about being there, she sat down at the edge of the bed, trying to keep a little bit of distance between them without it seeming too obvious.

Santana is sitting propped up in bed, waiting very anxiously for Brittany to arrive. She hates being alone in the hospital for even a few minutes, and although this hadn't happened often between Rachel and her mother, it was enough for her to be scared and lonely when it had. Seeing Brittany, she bites her lip, her eyes automatically tearing. She feels so guilty for making her worry, for not trusting her enough to talk to her and let her know what was going on with herself. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, reaching for the stuffed animal she is holding as she tries to smile.

"Yeah they will…hi."

She has lost about twelve pounds, from a frame already hovering just below minimum weight, and looks rather small in the hospital bed, in her baggy gown with IVs in her arms. She takes a deep breath, meeting Brittany's eyes.

"I'm sorry."

Brittany found it so odd how Santana could look different- thinner and more sad yet look exactly the same, like her normal self. She handed her friend the stuffed bear.

"His name is Phoofer, I've had him my whole life. He's always been there helped me feel better when I was sick and I guess it's time for him to help you too. Just treat him good okay?"

She shook her head at Santana's words as she scooted towards Santana. She gently placed her hand on the brunette's leg, she seemed so fragile, Brittany was scared of breaking her.

"Don't, okay? I'm sure you didn't mean for it to be like this."

Santana smiled, hugging the bear to her chest. "Why Phoofer?" Reaching for Brittany's hand, she entwined their fingers, taking another breath as she tried to keep back any other threatening tears. "I didn't…I just…let it happen." Another breath. "Mami's really cracking down hard this time. I can't even go to school."

Brittany smiled back at Santana as she shrugged. "I don't know, I made it up. He just looked like a Phoofer to me I guess."

The blonde looked down at their hands for a moment before bringing her eyes back up to Santana. "Maybe it'll be good for you. We'll all miss you at school, but at least you'll be getting better, you know? And I'll for sure come visit you like, all the time, okay?"

Santana breathed in again, hiding her face behind the bear for several minutes. She squeezed Brittany's hand, finally lifting her face just a little to look back at her.

"I…this is really hard, Brittany. Really, really hard. I just want to go home…but I won't be able to do anything at all. Mami won't let me. I know she's trying to help but…it's going to be hard."

Brittany bit her lip, waiting for Santana to just say something, anything really. She nodded as Santana spoke to her, still keeping her lip locked between her teeth.

"I probably is going to be hard, but I believe in you and I think with time you'll get better. I'm totally willing to hang out at your place until you can go out again, but have to try this time okay? Promise me?"

"I'm going to," she said quietly. She didn't let go of Brittany's hand. "I promise." She breathed out again, swallowing, then looked up at her.

"Britt…she wont' even tell me how much I weigh."

"Good, because none of us want to lose you, you're far too important to all of us." She gently squeezed the brunette's hand. "What you weigh doesn't matter- you are not defined by your weight. Santana Lopez, you are perfect the way you are."

Santana closed her eyes, finding it difficult to look at Brittany when she says that. She wants to curl her legs to her chest and block out the world, to just sleep the day away and wake up with nothing real. When she opens her eyes again, she tries to smile at her, her heart heavy. "I love you. I'm not gonna get lost."

88

Quinn Fabray had not had a good summer.

It had been bad enough, throughout their junior year, to watch her two best friends, if she is honest, the only genuine friends she's had, slowly but steadily pull away from her. First, to be with each other, then, for Brittany to be with Tina and Santana to be with Rachel Berry. Both ridiculous pairings that she would have guffawed at anyone even considering the year before. Still, they had both seemed happy, and she had tried to wrap her brain around it and support them both. She had tried to be there for Santana throughout her eating disorder, through her outing and her frequent relationship issues. She had tried to stay at the top of her class and do her parts at Glee, even as she became increasingly background, and to keep on top of her Cheerios position, literally.

But the year had slowly spiraled, until she found herself in a space in time where no one seemed to even look at her or see her, let alone fear or admire her. Her own friends were so wrapped up in their issues they barely noticed her, even to come to for advice, and certainly no one asked her how she herself was. Her mother drank herself to sleep most nights, her father refused to acknowledge her existence, her sister Frannie was on his side entirely. There was nothing Quinn could do to draw attention to herself...and no matter how hard she tried to deny it, she could not seem to keep her thoughts from drifting back to Beth.

how would things be, if she had kept Beth? What meaning would her life now have...how much happier, how much more full would she fill inside? Would she be free of the terrible emptiness that constantly gripped her chest and heart?

She found herself slowly pulling away even as others never glanced to call her back, gravitating more and more towards what once would have repelled her, because it at least provoked a reaction in her, in them. She started to hang with the Skanks, to do as they did, and though it didn't fill her, exactly, it did make her forget, and it did make her feel DIFFERENT.

She knew when she began this that it would not be forgiven by her friends. Not by the Glee kids, and certainly not by Santana, not after what they did to Rachel. She would be cutting her ties with them with this choice, and yet Quinn chose.

Yet when she heard through the rumor mill that Santana had been hospitalized, her suspicions and reluctant concern were raised. And she found herself reaching for her phone, unable to decide whether it was support or reality shaking she wanted to give her.

88

Texts

Quinn: Heard a rumor that was floating around, said you were hospitalized. How'd you end up there? Certainly wasn't a Cheerios accident.

Santana:…none of your business.

Santana: how is this a rumor? Who the hell told you I was in the hospital?

Quinn: The Glee kids have big mouths that, while great for singing show tunes, are not so great for whispering while in the hallway.

Santana: ….who said it. How do they know. No, you don't know anything, no one knows anything!

Quinn: Heard it from various idiots, all said they heard it from a Glee idiot. However, I do know that you stopped eating, again, I know you are indeed hospitalized because you stopped. Of course, half the rumors I heard said you'd gotten too experimental with Berry, but once a better source confirmed the other rumors I heard, well, I have to admit, I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner. Why are you being so stupid, Santana?

Santana: Rachel is my girlfriend. What the fuck are they saying about her. What….how do they know that. How do they KNOW that? Who said that. What are they saying. What are they saying about me?!

Quinn: Nothing bad, unless you consider her being a freak in the sheets a bad thing…which honestly could be taken either way. I didn't approach any of those Glee idiots, don't need them questioning me about things I don't know anything about, or don't want to answer. My source knows because my source is closer to the situation, and if you guess my source and take action against said source, I tell you this now, I don't care about your girlfriend or the fact that your ass is in a hospital bed, I will physically break you. As for what the school is saying about you, it's not pretty Santana, not at all.

Santana: Brittany told you. Brittany told you, didn't she? What are they saying? Tell me. Quinn, you have to tell me what they're saying. You have to.

Quinn: Yes, she did. It's not pretty San. Those that have heard the real reason, they're…No, I can't tell you, I won't tell you. If you want to know, ask someone else, because I'm not going to be the one to put that stress on you. I may be a bitch, but I still have a conscience.

Santana: You tell me right now. RIGHT NOW. You tell me or I'm ripping off the IVs and getting out right now and I'm coming to school and I'm finding out for myself, you tell me NOW!

Quinn: I warned you it wasn't pretty, but, here it goes: You have the Cheerios who seem to know the truth, they're calling you a weakling, but that's me putting it nicely. You have the Glee kids, who I've figured out feel bad for you, but seem to be enjoying your fall from grace, more than they should be. You have the Meatheads and Stoners are both split between thinking you got freaky in the sheets with Berry and not knowing. The Meatheads that don't know have been told things by their girlfriends but are too stupid to decide what's real, but make fun anyway. They say things I care not to repeat, because they hurt me and I know they would hurt you ten times worse.

(Santana doesn't respond to the message)

Texts

**Santana:**Rachel...how does Quinn know?

**Rachel:**I honestly don't know. But I'm going to find out, and if she continues to harass you I'm going to have to get... well, not violent, persay. But tough. Or something.

**Rachel:**Don't worry about Quinn, is what I'm saying.

**Rachel:**Whether she likes it or not her and I are on the same level now. So if she wants to play dirty, I can play with the worst of them.

**Santana:**But how does she know? I didn't tell her. I know Mami didn't. So who did?

**Santana:**Did Brittany?know I'm in the hospital and that it wasn't a Cheerio accident?**  
Rachel:**Again, I'm not sure.

**Rachel:**But I need you to focus on yourself, okay? Don't let Quinn get into your head.

**Santana:**I'm focused. They took me off the IV today.

**Rachel:**That's good. Have you been sleeping alright?

**Santana:**I sleep more in the day than at night.

**Santana:**I probably can go home Monday they said. But Mami won't let me go back to school.

**Rachel:**I know... She... well, she told me. Not everything, I'm sure. But she gave me the general breakdown of it all.

**Rachel:**My fathers have agreed to let me sleep over twice a week and alternating weekends, if you're okay with that?

**Santana:**It's scary, Rachel. She won't even let me sleep alone anymore. Ever.

**Santana:**I know why, but...it's still scary.

**Santana:**Yeah. I'd like that.· **  
Rachel:**I know, sweetie. But I'm here for you. So is Brittany, your parents, MY parents... We'll get through it together, I promise.·

**Rachel:**And when things get really scary, you can always talk to me, or your mother.·

**Rachel:**You can also cuddle with the stuffed kitty I bought you. Because I know you sleep with it every night anyway :)·

**Santana:**I want out of the damn hospital, I know that. I'd rather sleep with my mom eyeballing me every second then here by myself where there's all these weird noises and it's too bright.·

**Santana:**Do not.

**Santana:**Always anyway. · **  
Rachel:**Your bed is certainly more comfortable than this one.

**Rachel:**It's okay to admit it. I know my gifting abilities are near perfect.

**Rachel:**And the kitten is incredibly adorable. Not as adorable as myself, of course. But very close.

**Santana:**They just bang around like no one is trying to sleep in this place. And if your lights are off and you OBVIOUSLY don't want them bothering you they just turn them on and come in and get in your face checking shit anyway.

**Santana:**Well...it's cute and whatever.

**Santana:**Definitely not as cute as you.·

**Santana:**I saw my chart though.**  
Santana:**They just bang around like no one is trying to sleep in this place. And if your lights are off and you OBVIOUSLY don't want them bothering you they just turn them on and come in and get in your face checking shit anyway.

.**Rachel:**Well that's rather rude... Not to mention not very good for anyone's health... Should I write a scathing letter of displeasure? I can start it tonight if you'd like?

**Rachel:**3 You're cute, as well.

**Santana:**No no no do your scathing in person, that would be so hot. I gotta see that.

**Santana:**Rachel? Are you still upset? · **  
Rachel:**I'd have to set up a meeting with the advisory board.

**Rachel:**... Honestly? Yes... But... It's over and done with, so to speak. And... I still trust you. I trust you when you say you're going to really try, and work towards getting better. And I know your mother will do everything in her power to be there for you and help you along the way.

**Rachel:**I'm still terrified. And I won't pretend that I haven't lost sleep due to nightmares... But I love you, and I trust you, Santana.

**Rachel:**So, while I'm still very upset, I'm trying to move past being upset, because it won't help anyone, including you.

**Santana:**I'm sorry.

**Santana:**I didn't want to hurt anyone.

**Santana:**Except maybe me.

**Santana:**I'm trying. I promise. For you. · **  
Rachel:**I accept your apology, Santana. And I know you're trying. And I'm so very proud of you. I am.

**Rachel:**But remember to try for you, too. It might take awhile to want to try for yourself, and not just the people who love you. But you'll get there.

**Rachel:**I'll see you later today, dearest. Try to rest.

**Rachel:**I love you. I love you so much, and I'm proud of you.

**Santana:**I love you too.·

**Santana:**I really do.**  
Rachel:**I know. Sleep, 'tana. With any luck, I'll be there when you wake up. If not, know that I'll be there today no matter what.

**Rachel:**With the stuffed kitten.

**Santana:**Okay. You sleep too okay? Please.

**88**

**Texts**

Santana: (two hours later) I think you're lying...I think you're making it up...you're making it all up.

**Quinn**: I told you it was going to hurt Santana. You not believing me is all on you. If it helps, and it probably doesn't, Sue has been strangely tough yet lenient since you left school. Weight checks have happened twice a week instead of four, but those she catches making fun of you have been pushed ten times as hard. Having a couch under the bleachers really does help with keeping tabs on people.

Santana: No one…no one makes fun of me. They wouldn't dare. People are scared to say anything about me. You're making this up. No one knows. You just know because Brittany told you.

Quinn: You aren't there for them to fear, when the big bad wolf is away, little red comes out to play. To most of the school, you're the big bad wolf and they're little red. You're gone and they feel like they have power now. If you let it effect you, then they win and when you go back, you become everything they are saying you are. You let it roll off your back like the HBIC you are then when you go back they will fall back into place and you can ruin all of them for even thinking you to be weak, but you can't do both. You can't let it effect you now then go back and be HBIC, it doesn't work that way, and we both know it.

Santana: You're lying, you're lying, you're lying, you're lying LYING LYING LYING!

**Santana:**(dials, hands shaking)

**Quinn:**(stares at phone, takes a deep breath and answers) Hello?

**Santana:**(deep breath, trying to control voice) Stop saying that shit to me. Or I'll make you sorry.

**Quinn:**(breaths out heavily) I'll just stop talking with you then, because you'll just call whatever I say shit and send your watchdog of a girlfriend after me.**Santana:**It's not fucking funny, Quinn! It's bad enough you sent your little minions after my girlfriend last year and had her fucking scared to even go about her business in the school, now you're trying to do the same with me and it's not funny and it's not- it-it's not happening!

**Quinn:**Do you hear me laughing? Because I certainly don't! They, wait, what?! I didn't have anything to do with what they did to Rachel! Sure, I didn't stop it, and maybe I had a little bit to do with it, but I honestly have no fucking clue what they did to her! I will swear on Brittany's not-so-innocent innocence that I am not making a joke, that I am not trying to scare you! I warned you, I fucking warned you! I told you I didn't want to tell you and I didn't tell you half of what I could have! If I were trying to scare you, why the fuck would I have tried to convince you that you didn't want to hear it? Answer me that Lopez! (takes a sharp breath in before many fast, shallow breaths, doing her best to avoid the verge of tears)

**Santana:**(yelling) You know what they did to her! They do what YOU want them to! They beat her up, they hit her until she was bruising every day, they called her names and laughed at her to the point she was in a fucking depression, and you're friends with them now! You acted like you cared, like you thought it was wrong, and now you actually hang out with them like it's nothing! You're a fucking liar, Quinn Fabray! (now crying even as she yells, tears streaking down her cheeks) You couldn't take me being with Rachel so you're lying.

**Quinn:**(quiet voice) I...I admit that it doesn't bother me very much. I admit I don't really care right now. Maybe...maybe I would have encouraged it. Maybe I sort of did. (even quieter voice) Yeah, maybe I don't care, Santana. Maybe I dont' care about Rachel or the Glee kids or anyone, because it doesn't matter anymore. Singing stupid songs and smiling like nothing is wrong in the world is stupid, because it's not true, and no one cares that it's not true because they want to pretend it's all just amazing. They want to pretend they can help and it will all be great...so no, if they don't care about reality, I don't care about them! (voice raising) I don't care if she hurt! I don't care if anyone hurt! I just wanted to see people writhing under my power, and I get that! Do you know why I still have the hair, the clothes, the cigarettes? Because they give me the power I want without the rules and regulations of Cheerios. Sure, the cigarettes are probably killing me, but I'd rather die standing over the bodies of those I despise, than live along side those bodies! (energy drains from her body and breathing replaces her words on the line)

**Santana:**(the sobbing in her voice obvious to be heard now, but there is rage in her tone too) YOU DON'T CARE?! Well I fucking do! You're the one who's disgusting, Quinn! You're gonna talk to me about dying right now, about how you have it so damn tough? EVERYONE IN THE SCHOOL IS TALKING ABOUT ME! I'm in the fucking hospital and even when I get out I won't have any privacy, any freedom, ANYTHING, I've lost everything in world but the girl you don't care if you hurt! Fuck you, Quinn Fabray, I hope your damn cigarettes set you on fire! (rough crying can be heard crackling through line faintly)**  
Quinn:**(smiles despite herself) There's the Santana Lopez I've been looking for, the one with the backbone, who can stand up for herself. Took you long enough to show up. Now stop your fucking crying and keep going. Shoot, you don't even have to stop crying, just keep yelling at me. Keep yelling until you don't have a voice, until it feels like your entire body is going to collapse.

**Santana:**(outraged, screaming now, but still crying, her voice barely intelligible) YOU FUCKING LIED TO ME! I KNEW IT! No one knows, no one's saying anything, you're just trying to piss me off, you're just playing sick games so you can get one over on me, you probably fucking hoped you could blackmail me! I fucking hate you Quinn Fabray! **  
Quinn:**(smile falls, tone becomes eerily serious) Oh, no, people know, and everything I said in this call has been the truth, whether you believe me or not. I just don't like the fact that your natural Latina fire went out, because when Berry has to defend the HBIC, there is something extremely wrong with the world, and I liked my world just the way it was, and I'm pretty sure Britt did too. But, as I've said before, believe what you will, and if you so choose to send your girlfriend after me, just let Britt know so I know to pack an extra outfit, because I have a feeling the first thing she'll go after is my nose, despite her nonviolent tendencies, and I'd rather not go home in bloody clothing.

**Santana:**(still screaming at her into the receiver, and yet still crying simultaneously) I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU, QUINN FABRAY! Don't fucking worry about Rachel, it's me and my violent tendencies coming your way!**  
Quinn:**(holds back a chuckle) Good. When shall I be expecting you?

**Santana:**(hangs up violently)

88

**Rachel:***dials, hums as she waits for Santana to pick up*

**Santana:***answers after nine rings, audibly crying, and doesn't say hello*

**Rachel:**Oh my god, Santana what happened? What's wrong?

**Santana:**(still doesn't answer for several seconds, voice shaking when she replies) I-I-I hate her...she-she doesn't care they hurt you and she-she and she said, she, Brittany told her and she said people are t-talking about me and she-she-she said they're- (cuts off, loud, gulping breaths for several more seconds) She-she said they're all m-making fun of me and c-calling me weak and...she said the Glee kids th-think I deserve it and she's...she's lying...she's lying, tell me she's lying...**  
Rachel:***jaw tenses* Who said this to you, Santana? I can't tell you exactly what the entire school is saying, but no one in Glee is making fun of you. /No one/. Though I do have quite a few words to say to Mr Shue. Now who's been telling you these things? Please. I need you to tell me, sweetie.

**Santana:**(sniffling, trying to take breaths in and coughing a little) Quinn...I hate her, I really h-hate her, I'm g-gonna leave right now and k-kick her ass. I will. (sounds entirely unconvincing saying it)**  
Rachel:***sucks in a breath, hands shaking in anger. Manages to keep her voice calm* You'll stay right there, okay? I'll be there to visit in 20 minutes. When we hang up, turn your phone off. Can you do that for me, sweetie?

**Santana:**Why...why am I turning it off...**  
Rachel:**Because I don't want Quinn being able to harass and hurt you more. Turn your phone off for me, okay? I'll be there soon, and we'll talk or just sit quietly together. I can also sing for you, if you'd like. Anything you want that is in my power to do so.

**Santana:**(sniffling) Okay...

**Santana:**Don't try to fight her...don't call her. Don't talk to her.

**Santana:**The skanks might start with you again.**  
**Rachel:I'll be safe, I promise. I'm going to hang up now. Turn your phone off, and think about what you'd like me to sing for you. I love you, Santana. Everything is going to be alright, and we'll figure it out together. I promise.

Santana:I love you...please don't talk to her.

**88**

**Calls**

**Rachel:***paces back and forth as she waits for Maribel to pick up*

**Maribel:***is slipping behind the driver seat of the car when the phone rings. Picks it up, not recognizing number* Hello?

**Rachel:** ? Hello, this is Rachel Berry. I'm going to be running a little later than I planned for visiting Santana, and I wanted you to know something as soon as possible.*takes a deep breath*

**Rachel:**Brittany has told Quinn what happened to Santana, without Santana's consent. Quinn, to my knowledge, has been messaging and talking to Santana for... I'm not sure how long now. But she's been telling Santana that everyone at school knows what happened, is laughing at her, mocking her behind her back, and thinks she deserves it. As well, felt it necessary to tell all of Glee Club why Santana is in the hospital as well. Again, to my knowledge, without yours or Santana's consent. He was fairly detailed, ma'am.

**Maribel:***knuckles whiten slowly around the wheel of the car with the hand not holding the phone, jaw clinching, teeth gritted in response. Long moment before she responds, voice very controlled* Thank you very much for bringing this to my attention, Rachel. I will certainly take care of this. Immediately. Now...you have spoken with Santana? Is she...how is she responding? *starts car, driving while speaking***  
Rachel:***swallows thickly, blinking back tears* She's in hysterics, ma'am. I told her to turn her phone off when we hung up. So- So that Quinn, nor anyone else, could get to her. But I'm very worried. If she wasn't under constant surveillance at the hospital... I'm terrified of what direction her mental state is taking now, is what I'm trying to say...

**Maribel:***breathes out through her nose, again taking several moments to reply* Thank you for being so good to my daughter, sweetheart. And for speaking with me. Here is what I want now. You do not need to be present now if she is as you say. I will go see to her and then when she is calmer and go to take care of the information you have given me, you may see her then. This is for your benefit because I do not think it is good for you to witness her in the state you described, okay? Thank you again, sweetie.**  
Rachel:**A-alright. I'll just... I need to talk to my fathers, anyway. Quinn... Quinn had some others things to say. Pertaining to... an incident involving me last year. Just... text or have Santana contact me when it's okay for me to see her. Thank you, . Thank you so much.

**Maribel:**(again chooses words carefully) I will do that. I will see you soon. (hangs up)


	61. Chapter 61

Texts

Rachel: I warned : Whatever happens in the next few days, you deserve it. And I hope it breaks you apart, Lucy Fabray.

Quinn: I don't need them, and I don't need : [unsent] How many times do I have to try before you people realize I actually care?

Rachel: Everyone needs someone. Even bitter, depressed little girls who can't for the life of her figure out what she actually wants in life or how to actually be happy without causing other people so much : I'm going to ignore you now. I have things to take care of. But I do look forward to seeing you shatter in on yourself when karma comes back. Have a lovely evening, Lucy.

88

**Texts  
Santana:**You told Quinn, why did you tell Quinn?!

**Brittany:**She's our friend and was concerned. I figures I'd tell her so she knew the truth.·

**Santana:**SHE IS NOT OUR FRIENDE SEH HATES ME EVRYEONE IS TALKNGI ABOUT ME!**  
Brittany:**She's our best friend, she doesn't hate you Santana. Everyone is just being not nice, don't even worry about them.

**Santana:**sehe dsaid they're saying really bad stuff...she asdiu; they think i'm weak and they're glad i'm here and she said;

**Santana:***dials***  
Brittany:***Lets out a quiet sigh before answering* Are you okay right now?

**Santana:**(rapid, uneven breathing for a while) She said everyone's making fun of me, she said everyone knows, she said they're laughing and-and calling me weak and-and they think I deserve it and- (cuts off, almost hyperventilating) You told her, you TOLD her!**  
Brittany:**People are saying things, but it's because you're not there, they don't have anything to fear right now. I doubt anyone thought it'd get back to you. *sighs* Yes, I did tell her. She's our friend Santana, I didn't think it was fair to not tell.

**Santana:**They- they're not afraid of me anymore...I'll come back and I w-won't be popular and-and I won't be a Cheerio and...and they won't be afraid and it's gonna be...they're gonna- you told and- (cuts off, obviously fighting tears) **  
Brittany:**Believe me, people will be scared once you come back, but you're not there right now. They're probably not thinking about the consequences. I don't really think you should come back to the Cheerios anyways, you don't need to worry about your weight. I'm sorry I told, San.**  
Brittany:**So many people like you. And there's so much left, okay? Like, more than what you think.

**Santana:**(blinking rapidly) I don't want to go back to school. Ever.**  
Brittany:**It's our senior year, you don't want to miss out do you? This is supposed to be the most amazing year of our lives and if you don't come back I'm going to have to do it all by myself and that's not fun.**  
Brittany:**Okay, well uh.. okay then. *clears throat* I don't really know what to say anymore, except I wish you would.

**Santana:**I'm-I'm gonna go.

**Santana:**I c-can't...I know but...now everyone will do things to me and-and they'll keep s-saying stuff and I can't, Brittany I can't!**  
Brittany:**No one is going to do anything, something else will happen and they'll completely forget about what's going on with you.

**Santana:**No they won't! They won't...they never will...I can't go back. I can never come back.**  
Brittany:**Everything's going to be okay, Sanny. Just, don't worry about it.

**Santana:**(very small voice) No one likes me but you and Rachel. No one respects me. And no one is scared of me. No one. There's nothing left.·

**Santana:**I don't care, I don't want to come back. I can't be in Cheerios and I don't have anyone in Glee left who cares except you and Rachel and I don't want to do anything with anyone and they all hate me and laugh at me, even you said. I don't care anymore, I don't ever want to go back! (crying now)**  
Brittany:**They all care about you. Quinn cares about you. The girls on the Cheerios care about you. I don't know what exactly I can do to convince you to come back, but uh, I'll definitely miss you if you don't...

**Santana:**(sniffling, still crying) No they don't. I know they don't, you said it yourself and Quinn...I'm not coming back, Brittany. I can't. I won't.

Brittany: Well...I don't know what to say...I'll miss you.

Santana: I'm not coming back.

88

Maribel Lopez was infuriated.

Unlike her daughter, she wasn't a woman who dealt with her anger by yelling and getting in people's faces, by calling names and attempting to physically fight. Those days had been there, in her youth, but over time, she had learned how to channel her rage into purpose driven action, to right the wrongs she encountered the best she was able. Normally this gave her even more satisfaction than shoving someone's face into a wall might have.

But as she drove, considerably above the speed limit, to her hospital, intent on reaching her daughter as soon as possible, she could not at first entirely push away the less than peaceful mental images flitting through her mind, and it took effort not to change her mind to decide to act upon them.

She left the clothing and personal items she had retrieved for Santana from their home in the car, wasting no time in gathering them up as she exited the car and made her way to her daughter's hospital room. Even before she had reached the doorway she could hear Santana's voice, high pitched, elevated, and barely understandable, arguing with someone, presumably a nurse or doctor, through audible tears. Maribel's steps quickened, and as she entered the room she saw that Santana was crying hard, and a nurse, standing near her, had a needle in her hand, appeared to be trying to get hold of her arm firmly enough to give her a shot.

"Mami!" Santana said desperately, her eyes darting to her mother's and holding her gaze. She looked so anguished then that Maribel's heart twisted, even as barely controlled anger flared through her veins again. "M-Mami…m-make her…"

She didn't finish her sentence, her words breaking, but Maribel didn't need her to explain what was going on, even as the nurse started to do so. Clearly she had heard Santana or walked in on her this upset, and thought if she sedated her it would solve the problem. But at this point Maribel had little patience for anyone currently dealing with her child, and she raised her voice over Santana's, not yelling, but intense.

"I am asking that you leave this room and leave my child alone. If she has need of this in the future I will tell you so. I am asking that you leave as of now. Right now. Please."

The nurse looked at her, eyebrows raised, but did not question her; it must have been clear to her just how serious Maribel was. She left the room without further comment, and Maribel came forward. Climbing somewhat awkwardly onto Santana's bed, she took hold of Santana's shoulders, gently moving her enough so she was sitting up, and Maribel could slip her body behind hers, sitting with her back to the bed's back, her legs on either side of Santana's, her arms wrapped tightly around her so Santana was sitting in between her legs, her back leaned back into Maribel's chest. Maribel lifted one hand just enough to smooth Santana's hair back from her face, then began to kiss her head, temples, and cheeks, arms tightly around her as she began to rock Santana's body with hers back and forth on the bed.

"Te amo, Santanita," she whispered to her, over and over. "Te amo, te amo, te amo."

She held her and rocked her, saying nothing more than that she loved her, until she could feel her daughter's body start to relax into hers, her tears easing. Then she took Santana's hand in hers and held it to her own heart, so she could become soothed and regulate her own to her mother's. For almost fifteen minutes she sat with her, calming her with her touch and her whispered words of love until she could tell that Santana was almost lulled to sleep. She didn't try to talk to her, to convince her that she had nothing to worry about or be upset about. She didn't tell her that Quinn had not told her the full truth or that she didn't need to worry about other children, that she would be all right; she didn't even tell her how strong she was. She didn't try to logic or convince her, but only to tell her she was loved, and this seemed to be the right way to calm her.

When Santana's body was fully relaxed against her, and she could hear her slower breaths, Maribel gradually eased away from her, helping her to sit back up on the bed. She stroked back her hair one more time, kissed her, and spoke softly, holding her gaze.

"Rachel is coming to see you, baby. She has told me what has happened and I can promise you it will no longer be a problem. Be with Rachel for a few minutes and I will check in soon."

She waited for Santana's small nod before leaving the room, her steps growing faster and faster as she grew further way from her daughter. By the time she had reached a nearby bathroom, cell phone already out in hand, she was almost speed walking, her heels clacking with an angry rhythm down the hall.

The first phone call she made was to the high school principal, Mr. Figgins. She wasted no time in pleasantries, cutting right to the chase with brisk controlled tone that nevertheless meant business.

"Hello Mr. Figgins. As you are no doubt aware, my daughter, Santana Lopez, is currently hospitalized due to life-threatening health issues which are due to an unhealthy mental state. We have already spoken as to how she will continue her education from a home setting until she is physically and mentally able to return to school and I appreciate your efforts to work with me in this matter. I have shared with her Spanish teacher, Mr. Shuester, as well, in order for him to understand what is necessary in order for Santana's continued participation in Glee club. I shared this information with the two of you in order for my daughter's well-being to be served and because I trusted that the two of you would maintain a professional discreetness not only out of concern for my child but because your positions as adults who protect and help children would make it mandatory for you to do so. I am severely disgusted that this has not happened. My daughter has been informed by another child in this school that Mr. Shuester has shared this personal, sensitive, and legally confidential information with all the children in his club, and this information has now spread to all the children in your school. I would like to inform you that my child, if not already in the hospital and currently monitored at all hours by professionals, could very well have been driven to extreme means due to the added mental distress the actions your employee has inflicted upon her. My child is being emotionally tormented while in a delicate physical and mental state and I want you to understand that I will be taking action. If you do not investigate this matter and put Mr. Shuester on close review at the very least to investigate his highly inappropriate and illegal decisions in regards to the minor children under his care and influence, then I can promise you that I will be pressing charges not only against Mr. Shuester but also against all upper level employees of your school. Thank you very much Mr. Figgins and I promise you that I will hear from you again."

She hung up without allowing for the man to respond to her, taking a calming breath before dialing another number. Her conversation with Will Shuester was no less heated.

"Hello, Mr. Shuester. This is Maribel Lopez speaking, the mother of your student Santana. I want to make it very clear to you that you will soon be hearing from my lawyers, if not from other authorities as well. You have with your free sharing of sensitive and confidential information about my child to other children in your classroom, not only violated professional ethics and national laws, but managed to inflict severe emotional distress upon my child at the most ill-conceived and cruel timing you could have chosen. I want you to understand, Mr. Shuester, that my child is currently in the hospital, with a BMI of 17.3 when her minimum should be 18.5, due to her difficulty loving and accepting herself. I entrusted you with the task of helping her to grow and change, to develop and to change her self-views in a healthy and positive way due to your positive influence and leadership. What you have demonstrated instead is that you have unhealthy and selfish boundaries, that you will violate rules and disregard the well-being of a child in your care in favor of giving information to other children who are not mature enough to be able to handle the knowledge appropriately. I want you to understand that my child could conceivably have become suicidal due to your actions and that she may never feel safe to return to your school. I want you to understand that any positive strides forward she may have been able to take today if it were not for your actions have been thwarted solely due to you, and that instead of focusing on her recovery she has been crying to the point that a nurse was ready to sedate her. I want you to realize that if I do not allow my own mother-in-law to abuse my child and stand in the way of her health, I will certainly not allow a man who has no blood ties, no extended history, and no genuine affection for her to get in the way. You will be hearing from my lawyer, Mr. Shuester, and soon."

She hung up then, took several more breaths, and then picked up the phone one last time. Quinn Fabray too was about to develop an all new understanding.

88

**Maribel:***dials*

**Quinn:***picks up, nerves knotting her stomach* Hello?

**Maribel:**I have always liked you, Quinn, and so I will have to believe that the reason you would choose to share such information with Santana at this time is because you simply do not understand how your words would affect her. I do not believe you are a deliberately cruel person because I have seen that you are intelligent and thoughtful. Therefore I will make you aware of just what impact your words have made on Santana so you will understand. Do you realize, Quinn, that Santana could have died when she was admitted to the hospital? Do you realize that your words have affected her now to the point that she was crying for almost 45 minutes, at a time where she is already easily dehydrated and weak and cannot afford to be so upset for so long? I want you to understand that right now, Santana needs to focus only on getting well. Not on what other thoughtless children are saying or whether people like her or will be cruel to her, and she needs to hear no words that are anything but encouragement and kindness. Perhaps you did not intend to be cruel or to harm her, or perhaps you did not understand how much it would. I am making sure now that you do understand and you will not repeat such a thing, because surely you are not such a coldhearted young lady that you would wish to hurt someone as much as your words have hurt Santana.

**Quinn:**(long pause and a few deep breaths to keep the tears at bay) You have nothing to worry about Mrs. Lopez, I won't be speaking to Santana again. I'd ask you to wish her well for me, but I doubt she'd believe it. (sighs, trying not to cry)

**Maribel:**(still quiet tone) Quinn, that isn't necessary. If you do care for Santana, then it would help her simply to show it. Mistakes are not irreversible but I did want you to understand the impact of yours.

**Quinn:**(on verge of tears) I- I care, but I just, I can't.**Maribel:**Why can't you, Quinn?

**Quinn:**(crying lightly) I just can't!

**Maribel:**(speaking softly, hearing her tears) Help me to understand, Quinn. Are you feeling badly for what you said to her, and you believe you will not be able to make amends? Are you concerned that Santana will not forgive you? Are you having other difficulties right now which are outside of her? If I can help, I would like to do so for you. As for Santana, what she needs now are people who care and will support her. I think you can be one of those people for her, and if you care, I would think you would want to be.**  
Quinn:**(tears start falling harder) I don't know how she could forgive the girl who hangs out with and maybe even sort of influenced the girls that beat her girlfriend to the point they were afraid to go to school. Much less forgive me if what all you said is true. I'm not who you think I am anymore Mrs. Lopez! I'm not who anyone thinks I am!

**Maribel:**(listening,still speaking softly) She will forgive you, Quinn, not immediately, perhaps, but in time, if she recognizes that you are genuinely sorry and making amends. Santana herself has made serious mistakes and knows it. None of us is immune to this or to harming others with our mistakes, intentionally or otherwise. What matters is that you make the decision to right the wrongs you have done or to make other choices in the future. Perhaps I do not know everything you have done or are going through, but I do know that you are still that intelligent, thoughtful girl I thought you were. I can hear it in speaking with you now. Let me ask you again. Do you need help, Quinn? Is there something I can do for you? If that is the case, please let me know.**  
Quinn:**(tears keep falling) No, there isn't anything you can help with, not now. Just, keep her safe for me, and keep her away from me, that's how you can help right now. Just keep me from hurting her further. Keep me from hurting them further. (collapses into a fit of tears)

**Maribel:**(listening, breathes out) Quinn. I want you to take a deep breath in, and then a deep breath out. Count to ten with each breath. Listen to me, carina. (demonstrates for a few minutes, then softly) I know that you're a sweet, thoughtful person. You've made mistakes, but you can change things. If you are in trouble, or if there is something going on in your life or your home that is causing you pain or keeping you from being able to be the person I know you are, then you need to let me or another adult know.**  
Quinn:**(breathes as instructed, eventually calming) I'll be fine, but thanks for the concern Mrs. Lopez. I'll, uh, keep all this in mind.

**Maribel:**I hope to hear from you, Quinn. Or to hear from Santana she has heard from you. It would be a shame for her to lose another friend.

**88**

As Quinn let the phone drop, burying her face in her hands, she could feel her shoulders shaking even as she did not begin to cry again. She was aware of her heavy eyeliner smearing over her palms, the anxious, unsettled feeling pressing against her chest and heart, but she didn't move.

She had always been so jealous of Santana and her relationship with her mother. Even as she had sympathized and supported her, after her abuela's harsh reaction to her coming out, a piece of her had selfishly felt some relief that now Santana too would understand a small bit of what she herself had experienced with her own parents. She could not imagine her own mother going to bat for her so fiercely, with such love, as Santana's.

She had not deserved Maribel to speak to her with such compassion, to show her such concern given her own daughter's current crisis. But this was the woman Maribel was, the woman that Quinn herself had always envied and wanted to be like, but could never quite manage.

The truth was that she did care about Santana, deeply...but she couldn't begin to let herself think about what her hospitalization could mean. She did care about Brittany, and even, begrudgingly, Rachel, to some extent. But she had pulled back and let them pull away too, and now things seemed so beyond repair.

How could she ever make things right? Would Santana even want her to?


	62. Chapter 62

Santana had been very relieved to get back home to her own bed and her own room as the hospital okay'd her release. Her mother wouldn't tell her how much she weighed, though she did inform her it was still far from enough to allow her to have any privileges back. Santana was afraid to look at herself in the mirror, afraid to try on her clothes due to her fear that she would no longer fit in them. She had been trying to follow her mother's rules, to eat what she could make herself of her meals and to keep from excessive exercise, but it was difficult, even more so than the first time around. She felt like she had no privacy at all, since her mother was basically on her nearly 24/7, not even trusting her to use the bathroom without waiting for her outside the door to listen for any vomiting. Even in her own home, it was hard, much harder than she'd thought.

Rachel had visited her as much as she was able in the hospital, but true to her word, she had not initiated anything more affectionate than squeezes to the hand, kisses to the forehead or cheeks, and gentle hugs goodbye. She had not abandoned Santana by any means- she had, in fact, stroked her hair and sang to her after Quinn's upsetting revelation a few days ago, and she regularly texted and called when she did not physically visit. But Santana could nevertheless feel the difference in their interactions, could see that Rachel was more reserved if not less empathetic, holding back from giving more- perhaps to protect herself as much as to try to help Santana. She was always encouraging, always supportive, and always made sure Santana knew that she loved her, that she was certain she could become healthier- and yet she still seemed to be somewhat more restrained. She was looking for Santana to prove herself, to earn back the trust that her illness had taken, and as frustrating as it sometimes was to Santana, it was also an incentive to try.

It wasn't quite like that with Brittany; she supposed that was the essential difference between Brittany and Rachel. As manipulative as she sometimes could be, and as infrequent as it was that Brittany would stick out her own neck to stand up for another person or to take a definitive stance on a disagreement between others, Brittany nevertheless was also more accepting of Santana and probably always would be, when it came to Santana bettering herself. Whereas Rachel not only voiced her discontent with Santana's needed areas of improvement but also expected her to actively work on them, to continue a relationship between them, Brittany might voice discontent, but she tended to ignore or forget them, choosing to simply accept Santana regardless of her choices. Both ways of regarding her had their benefits; whereas Santana needed the pushing that Rachel gave her, and did usually appreciate it, when she was tired and grumpy and had no inclination to do anything but feel sorry for herself, it was Brittany's style she preferred.

It was Quinn who she was really upset with now, and Quinn whom she had ever intention of ignoring, forever. Not so much because of what Quinn had done- unlike her mother and Rachel, who maintained that Quinn had given her unneeded information at a terrible time- but because of how Quinn's words had made her feel, and because Quinn had heard her at her weakest and most emotional. That, along, of course, with Quinn's befriending the skanks, was her real crime to Santana.

It was so tempting to get on Facebook and see exactly what people were saying about her, but she tried to resist. It was hard to see the look in her father's eyes the one time he was home when she was, how he avoided looking at her for long, and her abuela's deliberate avoidance hurt as much as ever. It was hard to be in the same place and not allowed to do the same things she always had, so as she waited for Brittany to show up, she was very anticipant for something like things had once been.

Knowing Santana was out of the hospital was a good feeling, she was finally healthy enough to go back home, though she was sure Santana wasn't thinking of it like that. Brittany was excited that she'd be seeing her best friend again, still nervous, but not as much as she had been before. The main thing she was worried about was fighting, that seemed to be the only thing anyone was doing now; she didn't want to fight with Santana, not tonight.

Brittany pulled into the Lopez's driveway, sighing heavily as she shut her car off. The blonde grabbed the bad she'd packed for the night before getting out and heading towards the home. She knocked several times in a row, hoping that it'd be Santana who opened the door, though she highly doubted it.

It was in fact Santana, mainly because she had sprinted like a cheetah to answer it. Ignoring the look her mother gave her- she wasn't supposed to exercise, after all- she threw the door open and grabbed Brittany's hand, tugging her inside. "Hey!"

Brittany smiled at Santana before being pulled inside. "Hey!" She chuckled.

Maybe it was because Santana didn't have weird hospital lighting on her or because she wasn't hooked up to IVs, but there was something about her that seemed better. "You look good today."

"I look fat today," Santana rolled her eyes, exhaling, but she doesn't scowl or release Brittany's hand.

Hugging her tightly, she takes her time stepping back and releasing her. "I missed you."

Doesn't matter she saw her two days ago. She misses EVERYBODY cooped up like she is.

"Shush your mouth, you do not. I think you look very pretty today."

Brittany squeezed her hand, smiling at her. She hadn't been expecting the hug, but embraced it, her smile growing.

"Oh, I missed you too Sanny."

"Just today?" Santana asks, but she is smiling. She hangs onto Brittany, not wanting to let go. "Beware, the spy is lurking."

"No, not just today. You look good all the time," She chuckled. Brittany lightly patted Santana's back, "Gotcha."

"Santana, don't be rude," Maribel says to her from a distance, where she's actually trying to avoid being intrusive. "Hello, Brittany."

Brittany smiled over at Santana's mother, waving at her as she spoke. "Hey Mrs. Lopez."

Arm still loosely around Brittany's neck, Santana turns towards Maribel. "Mami, we're going to my room, or am I not allowed to walk another step without Britt being strip searched to make sure she doesn't have a year's supplies of laxatives and 0 calorie food or something stowed on her?"

Brittany quickly shook her head at Santana's mother. "No need for searches. I swear I don't have anything on me except for like, six sour gummy worms."

"Santana Veronica, stop showing off in front of your friend, the rudeness is very much unnecessary," Maribel said quietly but seriously, eyeing her. "Of course you can go to your room, as long as you join me for dinner."

Santana rolled her eyes again, sighing loudly, but started to lead Brittany to her room. "She won't get off my back…ever. I know I told her okay but I didn't think I okayed constant surveillance."

The blonde followed her back to her room, smiling. "I think she means well. It's just been a really long time since she's been a teenager, she probably doesn't really remember that you need a little bit of space, you know?" She lightly shrugged.

"She thinks I don't need any. She thinks I'm going to run a marathon and exist on air if she doesn't watch me. I can't go anywhere or do anything. I can't even sleep by myself and she guards me every time she makes me eat. She's crazy," Santana continues to gripe, although she knows full well why this is happening and that she agreed to go by it. "I'm almost eighteen!"

Sighing, she flopped back onto her bed and sprawled like a starfish, kicking one leg. "Tell me about you. I'm tired of me."

"She's a mom though, it's kind of what they do. Maybe yours is a tad crazier because of your situation, but still, she's just trying to make sure you're okay. She doesn't want anything to happen to you, you know?" Brittany thought it was sweet how much Mrs. Lopez was looking out for her.

Brittany shrugged as she sat down, "Well since you and Quinn are off the Cheerios I got a higher spot on the pyramid. Oh and I think I'm going to run for class president, but other than that…"

"Nothing is gonna happen to me except maybe I'll suffocate to death due to her," Santana muttered, eyes rolling up to the ceiling again. "That's a strong possibility."

She turned her head to the side to look at Brittany and smiled. "Good for you…wait, class president?"

Brittany furrowed her eyebrows leaning towards Santana, "Can that really happen? If so we should probably have a talk with her."

She smiled back at her, "Yup. Partly so I can make it a law that if anyone talks bad about you then they get in big trouble. The other part is because I like making posters and people worshiping me."

"Who knows, it probably could if she was overweight….good thing she's not," Santana shrugged again. Reaching out to Brittany, she started to play with her hair, but her hand stilled at the other girl's words. "Are people still talking about me then?"

Brittany shook her head, "No not really, at least not that I've heard. There are other things going on at school, you know? Class president stuff, Coach Sylvester being crazy, hot cheerleaders, hot football players, Mr. Schuester's awful teaching skills, things like that."

"Right…you're totally gonna get president, I can help and make Rachel help," Santana nodded. "I hope you pulverize everyone. So what's Mr. Shue doing now?"

"Nah, I don't need you guys to help, I can handle it." She smiled, nodding. "Oh I will, no worries. Besides choosing awful songs and not letting me sing, nothing."

"I want to help though," Santana insisted, bouncing on the bed and leaning towards her. "Come on, I want to. Please give me something to do, I'm bored. So bored. BORED please?"

She bats her eyelashes exaggeratedly, her smile slipping a little when Brittany mentions Will.

"You know, I used to just have distaste for his terrible taste at clothing and songs, and disapprove of his blatant favoritism towards man-children like Finn and weird sparkly smurfs likes Blaine, but now, I kind of hate him. Why the hell does he think he has the right to talk about me when he doesn't even care about me? When did he ever even try to help me or even have a conversation with me, ever?"

Brittany playfully rolled her eyes, "Fine, you can help. You can do some of the posters, but make sure they're colorful and cute, okay?"

"I don't know if he realizes he's old. You know, he likes to hang out with us and gossip, he thinks he's still our age and it's weird." She quickly shrugged. "But, yeah I get what you're saying, I'd probably feel the same way if I were in your situation."

"Britt, anything attached in your name obviously has to be colorful and cute, I expect no less," Santana smiled, reaching to tug at her hair playfully. "I'll color it up, don't worry."

She rolls her eyes again, her hand dropping from Brittany's hair as she exhales loudly. "He should go make out in the closet like other wannabes and leave us the hell alone."

Brittany laughed, nodding. "Absolutely _no_ less. Use lots of pink and a lot of glitter, I need it to stand out and get people's attention."

"Well, yeah, but he's Mr. Schuester, he's already done that, he's probably bored with it now. I'm sure he didn't mean as much damage as he caused, he does kind of care." She quickly shrugged.

"Pink, glitter, and rainbow sparkles," Santana agrees, smiling. "You got it."

She slid her eyes to Brittany, narrowed, and her voice sharpens. "He never cared about me. What I want to do now is plot how to get him back."

"I think he does care about you, Sanny," Brittany said simply, shaking her head. She reached out her hand again to tug lightly at Santana's hair, twirling a strand in between her fingers. "I think he's just dumb."

This simple proclamation, from the very girl who is so often called dumb and stupid herself, was not said with any sort of malice, but rather as a statement of fact. For Brittany to say that someone else was dumb, when she hated the word stupid so deeply, was a very big deal, and Santana recognized this. Still, it only made her feel marginally better.

"Well I still want to get back at him," she grumbled, even as she leaned her head slightly into Brittany's hand. Brittany, however, just raised an eyebrow at her, not seeming to quite believe her.

"How are you going to do that if you don't go to school? Burn all his sweater vests? It could be a good idea. You getting over your addiction to skinny while helping him get over his addiction to vests."

Santana broke into a brief but genuine grin, nodding her head enthusiastically. "Yes, that's how. So that fixes him, I'll just figure out a way to slip Mami to break into his house. So that's decided, that only leaves Quinn. How am I gonna get back at her?"

Brittany's little smile slipped at this question, and her hand stilled against Santana's head, her head tilting to the side as she slowly shook her head. "I don't like that idea, San. I don't want to help you think of that one."

Sitting up, pulling away from her hand, Santana frowned at her, mystified at this sudden refusal. "Why? She was mean to me too."

Except that really, Santana doesn't think that Quinn was mean to her, exactly. She would rather know what was being said about her at the school, even if it upset her. It's more how her actions are an insult to Rachel that really bothers her, on top of how her words had affected Santana.

"I don't like when she's mean, but yes, she does that sometimes," Brittany said calmly, nodding. "But so do you, Sanny, and so do I and so does Rachel too. We're all mean sometimes. I wish we weren't but we are, so we should just ignore the times we're mean and be nice. I think that would make us all feel better."

She seemed to be forgetting her usual great distaste for Rachel, but Santana didn't point this out. Her mind working, she tried to shift tactics, going for the one that she hoped would most get to Brittany- guilt. Flopping back on the bed again, she made her body as limp as she could, trying to elicit sympathy by stretching it to full length, unconsciously emphasizing its thinness.

"I need your help though, Britt, only you can help me, since Quinn trusts you-"

"Right, because she's my friend, so I would rather not lose that trust," Brittany said calmly, correctly guessing Santana's intention before she even started to warm up on it. Disgruntled, but able to quickly shift gears, Santana tried another angle.

"Brittany…please? I'm still sick so I can't do it on my own. I need help. She made me very sad and mad and you're my very best friend, and you want me to feel better, right?"

"Of course I do," Brittany lay down beside her, rolling onto her side to look Santana in the eye. "But I don't want to do anything mean. So. I'm sorry, Sanny. You have to do your own mean stuff."

"But she deserves it!" Santana exclaimed, forgetting her "pity me" act as she bolted upright, scowling at Brittany, her hair now mussed around her head. "She deserves it and I need help doing it so help me!"

"I think she's sad too, Sanny," Brittany shook her head at her again, still lying down, but also still looking Santana directly in the eye. "You know you two both get mean sometimes when you're sad. I don't want to make you more sad and I don't want to make her more sad, so. I can't help you, sorry. Besides, my mom always says you should be the bigger person and not fight back."

"But I'm the smallest person now!" Santana burst out with, grasping at straws, no matter how literal, to try to get Brittany over to her side. "I'm way smaller than Quinn, I'm even smaller than Rachel, so I don't have to be the biggest person, everyone else has to be bigger than me since I'm small!"

. **"**You could be bigger if you wanted to be, Santana," Brittany leveled with her, and from both her tone of voice and the steady look of her blue eyes, Santana had an uncomfortable feeling that she was speaking of two things at once. "You just don't want to. But I'm not gonna help you stay smallest, because I'm your friend. So…sorry, but no."

Santana attempted to stare her down, but it didn't seem to be working very well. Brittany just looked back at her, seeming very much unbothered. Finally Santana let out a loud huffing sigh and flopped back again on the bed, careful even with her flopping not to touch Brittany.

"You don't want me to feel better," she muttered, embarrassed and irritated when she felt hot tears sting her eyes. When Brittany opened her mouth, she cut her off, not even letting her deny this again. "I don't want to talk anymore, Brittany. Okay? I'm done talking."

"Okay," Brittany shrugged, but even though Santana had turned so she was hiding her face against her arm, she could tell that Brittany was still watching her. "Okay, Santana, but I'm still your best friend, you know. So you can be mad but that's okay."

Santana ignored her, but a few minutes later she felt Brittany's hand on her head, slowly stroking through her hair. And although she tried to continue to ignore her, she couldn't deny the tears pressing more urgently than before against the back of her eyes.


	63. Chapter 63

"I can't believe Mami is letting me do this," Santana muttered, shaking her head. "It about takes an act of congress for her to let me walk to the bathroom most days and she still stands right outside it. This is a friggin' miracle, maybe we better check and make sure she didn't have a concussion when we get back."

She held on tightly to Rachel's hand, trying hard to resist her natural urge to quicken her steps, faster and faster, until she was outright running, working off what she felt to be a huge excess build up of calories over the last week and a half at home. This was the first time that Maribel had let her leave the house without her supervision since she had been discharged from the hospital, and even so, it was not without rules. Santana's walk could last no more than fifteen minutes or she would come looking for her and if she had to, publicly embarrass her to get her to come home; Maribel had made this perfectly clear to her. She could not jog, or power walk, but had to walk at a reasonably sedate pace, and she had to have Rachel go with her.

"I trust that Rachel will be honest about any rule breakings that you might try to squeeze in, in fifteen minutes' time," Maribel had said wryly, patting her daughter's shoulder. "I am not saying that I do not trust you, mija, you are doing well and I know you are trying. But I will not deny trusting your girlfriend more."

Santana had rolled her eyes and scoffed and dragged her feet about going on the walk, not wanting her mother to think that it held any real significance to her. The truth was, though, that she was thrilled to be able to go outside at last, to have some sort of independence, even if her girlfriend made that not exactly fully true. It meant that she was starting to gain some trust, that she was slowly inching just a little closer to having a semi normal life.

On the other hand, it also meant that if Maribel trusted her enough to let her go for a walk, she had definitely gained weight. Enough weight that her mother didn't think it would be a danger for her to walk for a whole fifteen minutes, which could be as far as a mile or so. If her mother thought she was healthy enough to walk a mile, then that HAD to mean that Santana had gained a huge amount of weight, at least in her own eyes.

"This is amazing, Santana, I'm so happy she's letting you and I'm so proud of you," Rachel was saying, squeezing her hand as they walked, but Santana barely paid attention. She didn't look over at her, not wanting to see her beaming, expectant face.

She debated for a few moments, unsure if she wanted to let her in on her thoughts. But her therapist and Maribel both had been consistently encouraging her to share her worries, her fears, and her anxieties, to get them off her chest and heart instead of letting them silently brew inside until she felt driven to panicked action. Santana swallowed, turning to look at Rachel head on, and kept her voice soft as she spoke.

"I must have gained weight though, Rachel. She wouldn't let me if she didn't think I'd gained a lot of weight."

Rachel stopped what she was doing, pulling Santana to a stop with the walk too. When Santana looked uncomfortable with this, she started to walk again, but at a much slower pace, firmly gripping her hand.

"You did gain some weight, but that's healthy, Santana. You've gained healthy weight, weight you needed. You still need to gain more and you will be even healthier when you do. Your mother is letting you go for a walk because walking is healthy and you're doing so much better and getting so much healthier. Because she's proud of you, Santana. I'm so proud of you too. SO proud."

She leaned in to kiss Santana lightly on the lips, just briefly enough so they didn't stumble in their walking. Santana kept hold of her hand, responding to the kiss, but she is still frowning slightly as she walks, though her anxiety has already been lessened by the affectionate gestures.

"It's just…it's scary, Rach. I don't know what I weigh or how much more I'm supposed to gain and what if I go over…I just want to know where I am and where I have to get to, that's all. I just want to know, so…"

"So you have control again?" Rachel prompted, and when Santana nodded a bit shame-faced, she stroked her thumb over the back of her hand, beginning to comfort earnestly.

"Santana, sweetie, the thing is that you weren't in control at all. You tried so hard to control everything about yourself and your life that you lost control. You couldn't even keep yourself alive, baby. So now your mother and your doctors and your therapist have the control until they can give it back to you, and this is just the first step of letting you have a little back."

"I know," Santana muttered, eyes focused straight ahead. She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other as she walked, rather than on Rachel's words. "I know that. But it's just…it's hard to give up."

"I know it is, and I know it must be scary, but you're so brave, Santana. So BRAVE," Rachel emphasized. Her arm slid around Santana's waist in a light embrace, and she leaned her cheek onto the taller girl's shoulder as they walked- increasingly slower, Santana noticed, but she didn't mind as much as she would have thought. "You're so brave and doing so well, and I'm so proud of you. You'll probably roll your eyes again or shrug it off because I keep saying it so often, but I am going to keep saying it and saying it because it's so true and I mean it so much. I'm SO proud of you."

Santana did roll her eyes, but she was smiling too as she wound her own arm around Rachel's waist, lightly rubbing her fingers against the other girl's side. She keeps her voice quiet, sincere, as she answers her.

"I'm only doing well because people are making me, Rachel. Honestly, I don't know if I'd always do it on my own…I probably wouldn't. I mean I am trying, I really am, and I want to get better…but not always. Sometimes I just don't. Sometimes I don't' want to be better at all but I just do it anyway, because people want me to, and because…because I want to for them."

"That's exactly why I'm proud of you, Santana Lopez," Rachel insisted, and she pressed a kiss to her shoulder, then her collar bone, effectively slowing their walk to something more like a shuffle- but again, Santana didn't exactly mind. "Because you keep pushing forward every day, no matter what you feel like, even when you hate it. That takes so much courage and so much strength, and it makes you so amazing to me."

They concluded the rest of their walk in silence, but Santana's thoughts continued to whir steadily. She rolled her eyes at her mother, as this was expected, as Maribel not so stealthily looked her over as they returned, but apparently she passed inspection, because Maribel let them pass to go to Santana's room with only a reminder that she was to eat her snack in an hour. As Santana lay back on her bed, rolling to her side to face Rachel, she avoided looking into her eyes, but rather somewhere near her nose as she finally voiced what had been on her mind.

"Rachel…I don't want to go back to school again. Ever."

Rachel's eyes softened, and she reached out a hand to stroke back Santana's hair from her forehead, leaving her palm to cup her hand as she spoke to her quietly.

"I know, baby, and I understand. I do. But I promise you, no one is talking about you anymore. Everyone has moved on. There might be a few assholes who would make a comment, but I will be right there and I PROMISE it would be their last. You would have me and Brittany and Puck and everyone else in Glee to back you up and support you."

"The same people in Glee who spread my shit all over the school?" Santana said acerbically, pulling back from Rachel's touch, and Rachel exhaled, shaking her head.

"I don't…Santana, I don't think it was like that. I'm not excusing them at all, in particular Mr. Shue, who is on probation, by the way, and may or may not even be present by the time you choose to return. But I truly don't think it was meant deliberately or maliciously. I suppose Mercedes or Tina or Kurt or any one of them was simply not minding their volume of voice when discussing your situation and others overheard…you know how that works, sweetie. It's not right, it's horrible, but it happens. It's high school in Lima."

"I won't go back," Santana repeated, her jaw set. "I can't."

"That's your decision, San," Rachel told her, eyeing her, before reaching out a careful hand to resume her former stroking of her girlfriend's hair. "I understand, I do, and I support whatever choice you make to continue your education however will best benefit you."

She was silent for about three seconds- the max time, Santana had expected, that she would be able to be- before continuing quietly, still caressing her hair, looking her straight on in the eyes.

"But I will miss you. I miss you now. I miss seeing you in the halls and feeling my whole face light up because of the way you smile at me, how I feel happy all the way down to my toes. I miss stealing kisses in the janitor's closet, and the bathroom in between classes, and you touching my leg when the teacher isn't looking under the desk, or slapping my backside and hurrying ahead laughing down the hall. I miss laying with you in the auditorium during free period, and sitting on your lap in Glee, holding your hand as we walk down the halls and knowing I will always be safe from slushies with you by my side. I miss your voice, Santana, and the way you put so much effort and emotion into every song so it seems you wrote the words yourself. I miss you so much, and if you don't come back, I'll miss you more. I'll see you after school of course, and weekends, but I think we both know it won't be the same."

Santana shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to pull away from Rachel's hand, but also not quite wanting to have her touch her when she is speaking so earnestly…so convincingly. She knows that Rachel is being truthful, but she also suspects that there is a strong amount of deliberate manipulation mixed in as well.

" Rach, there's only a year left even if I did come back," she tried to deflect. "It won't make much difference."

"That's why it matters even more, to get as much time in and make as many memories as we possibly can while we still can," Rachel countered earnestly, shaking her head. "Santana, I know it's scary, and you're making so many changes and trying so hard and it might feel like you can't take one more change or one person putting you down. But I'll be there for you. Not doing things for you, or covering up for you or letting you slide into what's more comfortable, but supporting you, and so will everyone else. Everyone who matters, anyway. So I do hope that one day, when you're ready, you will come back, and take all the people who don't matter head on. I know you can do it. I believe in you."

Santana inhaled slowly, finding this speech even more difficult to shrug off. Rachel and her pep talks…how was it possible that they could make her feel so good, so loved and encouraged, and yet so small and frightened at the same exact time?

"It's not like anyone else cares anyway, it's not like people are sitting around missing me and wishing I was back. They probably moped around for a day feeling all guilty and shit and then they sang a rousing verse of "Don't stop believing" and now they're all good. Most of them are probably thrilled their lame-ass outfits and horrifying hook-ups now go uncommented on," she said as casually as she could manage, but Rachel was shaking her head even before she finished.

"Oh, Santana, you are so wrong. I promise you, you are so wrong. Mercedes misses you, and I know Kurt does as well. Noah, certainly, also Sam. Brittany certainly misses you, and Michael. I suppose you don't count me but I certainly miss you and I should count at least two or three times, and even Sue seems more dispirited recently. And Quinn…" she paused, swallowing, and looked Santana over carefully before continuing. "As furious as I am with her, Santana, Quinn misses you too. And she is absolutely miserable. I rather suspect she already was, before your last…exchange…but recently it is so obvious she isn't even trying to hide it behind petty acts of delinquency and a hardened but thinly obvious attitude. She lurks around the other Glee kids, Santana, even when she has no reason to be near them, and she doesn't mock them or glare at them or ask the skanks to slushy them. Actually…actually, Santana, sometimes she almost looks tearful, and I don't think it's simply a trick of the light reacting with her rather overdone eyeliner."

She paused again, softening her voice as she concluded, "I truly do think she misses you, Santana, and is sorry for having upset you. I think if you were to return to school, or speak with her, then she would…I think she wants to be your friend again, and doesn't think that you would allow her to try to be."

This was just too much. Rachel, Quinn's most regular target over the past four years, Rachel, who had been beaten and terrorized by the girls that Quinn had since chosen to befriend…was it even possible that Rachel was now encouraging Santana to have any sort of sympathy or compassion for her? Santana had always known her girlfriend to be forgiving to a fault- it was both her strength and her failing. And yet this latest encouragement on Rachel's part seemed unbelievable even for her.

"Good, I hope she is miserable," Santana said bitterly, feeling her jaw muscles tense just thinking about it. "I hope she's hurting inside just as much as her new bestest buddies made you hurt on the outside. Because she's right. Why the hell would I be friends with someone who doesn't give a shit about my girlfriend or how I feel for what she does against her? No, she doesn't get another chance, Rachel. She's blown too many. She wants to be a bitter, cruel, lonely bitch who hides behind her looks and hurts everyone else so maybe they won't notice her cry? Let her."

"I hope you heard what you just said, Santana," Rachel said softly but meaningfully, holding her gaze. "Because that sounds like a very apt description for yourself, only a year ago."

Santana flinched as the mark hit, right through the left ventricle. Rachel had a point…more than a point. But that didn't mean she had to do anything towards Quinn, just because Rachel was soft-hearted enough to forgive her.

Did it?

"I thought we were talking about school," she said uncomfortably after a few seconds, finally pulling back from Rachel's hand. "About how I'm never, in ten bazillion years, ever, ever going back to that hellhole they claim to be an educational institution instead of the sixth circle of hell on earth. And since we've well established that, what we should be doing is planning out every time you're gonna see me after school and on weekends for the next six months or so, since I know how you love to be scheduled down to the minute for every single day."

Rachel rolled her eyes, giving Santana a gentle nudge, but she let it go, as Santana had hoped. Even as the pursued other conversational avenues, however, Santana couldn't quite stop thinking about Quinn. What was it about blonde cheerleaders that they never seemed to entirely leave her life or thoughts?


	64. Chapter 64

Tumblr posts

Quinn: I'm just fooling myself...

Santana: About what, Madam Cryptic?

Quinn: Got a problem, Lopez?

Santana: Depends. What are you talking about?

Quinn: I believe I asked if you had a problem. Though, I suppose asking if you needed something would have been a better question. So, do you? Need something, that is.

Santana: No. I'm asking you what's your problem.

Quinn: I don't have a problem, and if I did I wouldn't bother you with it.

Santana: Then why the attention seeking post accompanied with an emoticon that I think you intended to express some PG, lame, appropriately Quinn-repressed emotion, but instead looks like a mangled vagina? Besides, maybe you don't plan to bother me but I never promised not to bother you.

Quinn: It's none of your business, Lopez.

Santana: Then why post publicly for all to see?

Quinn: Because I'm an idiot, but we knew that already.

Santana: Not disputing that. Still confused. What's up.

Quinn: PM: You honestly want to know? I've pushed away the people I care the most about in hopes of keeping them safe and I fucking failed.

Santana: PM: You talking about me?

Quinn: (no response)

Santana: PM: Hey. You talking about me?

Quinn: (no response)

Santana: Lucy Quinn Fabray. Are you fucking talking about me?

Quinn: (no response)

Santana: Okay that's it. I know you don't do shit now after school but mope around behind the school smoking cigarettes, which is damn ironic considering how much you claim to hate the place. I'm giving Mami the slip and going to you right now 'cause either you need a good ass kicking or you're about to do some really stupid shit, which I would have to later kick your ass for, either way, see you and your ridiculous bubble gum acid trip head in five minutes.

88

It had taken a little more than five minutes to give Maribel the slip, and in fact, Santana hadn't managed to be successful at all. She had gotten no further than putting her hand to the front doorknob before her mother was on her, wanting to know just where it was she thought she was going without permission. Despite Santana's indignant responses that, at eighteen years old, she was now able to go anywhere and do anything she wanted, without needing anyone's permission, Maribel had nevertheless won the match, hands down, with a simple reminder that if the eighteen-year-old adult would like to pay for her own hospital bills, Maribel would then consider allowing her to make decisions that regarded her health and safety. Since Santana had a grand total of five dollars to her name at that time, she knew very well she was in no position to argue- and she knew, too, that her mother more than had reason to be concerned about her.

It had taken some persuasion, but eventually she had convinced her mother that she was absolutely not planning to go for a run or to purge or do anything that she wasn't allowed to, that she simply wanted to talk to Quinn and see what was going on with her. The more she argued her case, the more strongly Santana realized that what she was saying was true. Her anger with Quinn had not in any way disappeared, but her reluctant concern for her, especially in light of her conversation with Rachel, was beginning to tip the scales. Although Santana didn't quite understand why, her mother's eyes had softened when she spoke of Quinn, and she had conceded- but not without making Santana compromise.

"You may go, Santana, and you speak with her, but I will be driving you there and dropping you off. Then you have two options. Should you happen to improve your relationship with Quinn to the point that she is able to walk home with you, you may do this, and if this is the case, you will be a polite hostess and invite her inside. If this is not the case, then you will give me a call and I will pick you up."

Santana had protested this for a minute or two but not very strongly. Once Maribel made up her mind, it was pretty unshakable, and the longer she fought her, the less chance she would have of Quinn still being there. Still, she had been embarrassed as her mother dropped her off at the edge of the football field, and she had found herself feeling shaky inwardly too as she started to walk towards the bleachers- not those of the skanks, as she had a feeling Quinn would no longer be accompanying them, but the opposite set used for the visiting team.

What if someone else from the school saw her and confronted her? What if they thought she was coming back for good and told someone and everyone started talking about her all over again?

She had been relieved to see no one on the field or around it, but she could see Quinn from a distance, her back turned, pink tips of her hair sticking out from a black beanie. Even as she drew closer, still at a distance, she could tell that Quinn's shoulders were slumped, that she was probably ignoring Santana's approach but could nevertheless hear her coming.

Santana wasted no time in small talk. As she came up alongside Quinn, circling around her to look her in the eyes, she crossed her arms over her chest, simply repeating her previous question as though Quinn had never heard it in the first place.

"The people you pushed away to try to keep safe. You talking about me, or what?"

Quinn avoided meeting her eyes, though, since Santana was only about a foot away from her, this was difficult to achieve. She fumbled with her cigarette, her hands shaking slightly, and then stubbed it out against the closest bleacher, pressing her lips together into a thin line. Looking at her, Santana was stricken to see that Quinn didn't look much better than she herself did. She too seemed to have lost some weight, and she was even paler than usual, this made even more obvious by the dark, smeary makeup around her eyes. Quinn's eyes were glistening with held back tears, but she pushed them back, attempting to harden her gaze even as she swallowed visibly, taking her time in replying.

"You. Brittany. My mother….Santana, what exactly are you doing here?"

Santana ignored the question, deeming it not worthy of a response. Particularly since she wasn't totally sure she actually had one. She lifted a sardonic eyebrow, shifting most of her weight to one hip as she stared Quinn down.

"Well if you'd actually listen to people once in a while, or, you know, actually act like a decent friend instead of a backstabbing bitch, then maybe things would be different. Ever consider that?"

"It's too late for that, Santana," Quinn muttered. She broke her cigarette in half, letting it drop to the ground, then seemed to regret it as soon as she let it fall. She tapped her fingernails against the bleacher, and Santana noticed with an inner eye roll that they were painted black as well.

"Why?" Santana pressed her, not letting her get away with such an easy response. "You're here, I'm here, Britt could be here in two minutes if I called. So could Rachel, if you ACTUALLY give a shit what you did and would mean it when you apologize. It's the beginning of senior year, you have forever to change things up. All you have to do is do it."

"I promised myself I wouldn't go near you again," Quinn said finally after what seemed to Santana far too long of a pause. The other girl was still half turned away from her, now stroking her fingertips along the bleacher's grooves, and this alone was enough to almost alarm Santana. Last year, the blonde wouldn't have dared touch where thousands of people's feet had been planted, citing germs and dirt and general nastiness, and now here she was running her hands all over it just to have something to do with them.

"I promised myself and I tried not to. I…I was trying not to cause any further pain, Santana, so why do you have to keep pushing and pushing things? What is it about you that can't just mind your own business and lead your own life?"

"Same as I need air to breathe, warm bodies to lay on top of, and awesome clothes to show off my hotness, I need to nose into people's business to survive," Santana rejoined. She leaned one elbow on the bleacher step, now facing Quinn, even closer as she said lightly, "You know, Fabray, you might outweigh me by a good twenty pounds but if you keep doing the cryptic shit I could still beat you down."

"You probably could," Quinn mumbled, seeming sincere, and at this Santana stiffened, genuinely taking offense.

"Okay if you're calling me fat, you can sit the fuck down right now before I start yanking out that shitty version of a Frenchy dye job…I'm still lighter than you, that was my POINT, even if I did gain weight!"

"Oh, come off it, Santana, I'm not calling you fat! You're not and never were and never will be. No matter what you think. You're thin and you're beautiful and you should know it just like everyone else does," Quinn snapped back, some real bite finally coming into her tone despite her words. "I'm calling me weak."

Somewhat pacified, but newly concerned by her words, Santana squinted her eyes at her, her voice dropping to a softer but no less intense tone.

"Really, Quinn. Being serious here. What's wrong?"

But Quinn turned her head away, still tapping on the bleacher, the noise so grating to Santana that she wanted to reach out and slap her hand away.

"It doesn't matter, Santana," she said finally. "You have enough to worry about. I don't know why you're even here. Just…can you just go home now? Does your mother even know where you are?"

"Mami dropped me off with her blessing, so nice try there," Santana informed her, rolling her eyes. "If it doesn't matter why you're moping and tapping shit, then it doesn't matter why I'm here asking you about it, right?"

She hesitated, then, releasing a long sigh, swallowed, reaching out to grab hold of Quinn's wrist. Despite the gesture, she was gentle, and she didn't squeeze as she continued.

"Look, Quinn…I don't hate you, okay? Anymore, anyway. You're still a bitch but that's nothing new, so…I don't know. I…sort of maybe care. Just a little bit. So…tell me. Okay? Just tell me."

She expected Quinn to snatch her wrist away, to raise her voice with biting words aimed her way. She expected her to go for the jugular, maybe even to give her another hard slap across the fact, as their confrontations always seemed to come down to. But Quinn did none of this. Instead, she remained as turned away from Santana as she could, her shoulders beginning to shake, and her voice trembled badly as she almost plead with her.

"You should hate me, Santana. I don't…I don't deserve to have you, or Brittany, or…or anyone care about me. I'm more than a bitch…I'm a menace. I…I don't deserve to be cared about…just stop. Please just stop."

But Santana wasn't a person who could do that, not just because someone asked, not once she had started….not when she truly believed in what she was saying. Still holding Quinn's wrist, she circled around in front of her, so she was standing where Quinn couldn't avoid looking at her. Staring her directly in the eyes, she spoke forcefully, not yelling, but intensifying her voice.

"Stop it, Quinn. Yeah, you do stupid things. Ridiculous, selfish, incredibly bitchy things. But how is that new? I know you're super Christian with your raging guilt trip and hypocritical emotional seesaw, but rest assured, I don't see the gates of hell swinging open screaming your name any time soon."

"So me befriending the girls that practically killed your girlfriend is just me being stupid?" Quinn fired back, her own voice rising to match Santana's in tone as she finally met Santana's eyes, their hazel surfaces wet and wide, holding much more pain than any true anger. "You think she would agree to that? Do you realize, Santana, that they still mock her, and I wouldn't say anything? Do you realize that I would laugh? Do you realize that I said things about her before they ever did any of it, sometimes where they could hear, and that was probably where they got the idea it would be okay for them to do what they did? Because I'm your FRIEND, because I'm the Cheerios captain, because if I'm okay with them making her life hell then you must be too! Do you realize that they're the ones that talked about you the worst when you were in the hospital? Do you realize that they made jokes about you DYING, that they-"

Here she stopped, seeming to nearly choke on her own words, and just shook her head hard, swallowing several times before she could manage to say anything else, and even those words were barely coherent and audible.

"You should hate me. Even I hate me."

It was difficult for Santana to hear what Quinn was telling her. It was nothing she hadn't known or suspected, even if she inwardly flinched to hear it said aloud. But she knew Quinn Fabray, probably almost as well and sometimes better than Quinn knew herself, and hearing her admit this didn't close her off from her, as Quinn had no doubt hoped. If anything, hearing Quinn admit this aloud, in an almost tormented tone, her eyes still threatening tears, was lowering Santana's guards a little more.

It was so difficult to be honest, to admit your shortcomings and wrongdoings and try to change. It was so much easier to go on with what was familiar, to hate yourself and everyone else. So much easier, but she wouldn't let Quinn do this. She couldn't.

"You're right, Q, it wasn't just stupid, it was almost evil," Santana acknowledged, but she didn't step away from Quinn, didn't stop looking her in the eye. "And I'm not over it. At all. But you should stop trying to make me hate you. Yeah, I do sometimes, just like I'm sure you hate me too sometimes. But I don't hate you right now. So stop trying."

"Why not?" Quinn asked, her words barely above a whisper. Santana saw the first of her tears start to overflow, trickling slowly down her cheeks, but Quinn didn't bother to wipe them away.

"Because," Santana told her honestly, exhaling. "Because you were my friend. Maybe still are, I guess. Because…because you're Quinn."

Quinn sniffed, finally swiping at her cheeks, and her eyes shifted to the side as she attempted to lighten her tone, to make it mocking, even as her voice shook.

"You going soft on me now, Lopez. Next thing I know you'll be telling me to tell you about my feelings."

"Damn straight," was Santana's immediate comment as she crossed her arms, arching an eyebrow at her as she leaned back against the bleacher. "Everyone makes me do it, now it's your turn."

Quinn just laughed sarcastically at this, shaking her head and releasing another breath as she leaned back too, eyes rolling up towards the sky. "Right…if you were Brittany, maybe, MAYBE I would consider it. But come on, Santana. Me and you, talking about feelings together? The only time we ever have before is when you were drunk and made me, or when you didn't feel like you had anyone else."

"Isn't that how you feel right now?" Santana pointed out, raising an eyebrow back at her, and inwardly noting that this had hit the mark when Quinn lowered her gaze. "Why Britt over me anyway?"

"Because, Santana," Quinn sighed again, as though this was obvious. She picked at her cuticles, and Santana noticed that her nails were ragged and short, as though she had bitten them, the black polish flaking off. "When it comes to discussing feelings, between the three of us, Britt will always be best. After her there are millions of people that discuss feelings better than you and me put together, though you probably beat me out by more than a few thousand people."

"Soooo then we don't have to have high expectations. Just go for it."

For at least a minute Quinn said nothing, picking at her nails. Santana too was quiet, simply eyeing her, arms crossed, waiting. She didn't look away, didn't remind Quinn that she was expecting her to speak. She just looked at her, and finally, still staring towards her nails, Quinn did.

"I don't deserve you or Brittany. I don't deserve my mom. I don't deserve people caring about me and before you argue, hear me out. This is what you wanted me to do, tell you how I feel….well I fucking hate myself. I hate everything about me. I hate how I've treated you, Britt, and even Rachel. I hate that I couldn't see how bad off you were. I hate that I looked at you and I didn't see you and if I had seen you, I honestly don't know if I would have said anything or cared. I hate that I didn't yell at people when they made fun of you. I hate that while you were in the hospital that I didn't visit you, that I hurt you to the point that Rachel had to get your mom to call me and talk some sense into me. I hate that the people I once considered my best friends still want something to do with me despite how I've treated them, treated you."

Her voice was building up speed, becoming tight and strained and higher in pitch, faster in speed the more she spoke. Tears were starting to trickle down her cheeks again as she finished, her words becoming difficult to understand.

"I hate that I care so damn much about how I look and what people think about me and so I make everyone else feel bad about how they look and what I think about them or just want them to think I think about them or who they are. I hate that I can't ever just tell people like a normal person if I admire them or like them or love them without having to talk myself into doing it ten times beforehand. I hate that I get so jealous of everyone and everything who seems better or prettier or smarter or happier or more loved than me and how it seems like that's everyone else in the world. I hate that no one really loves me, and I hate that the people who do love me only love me because of who they want me to be or think I am instead of who I really am. I hate that I push everyone away who tries to love me and I hate, god do I hate so much how much I want to be loved."

Her words cut off then, her head lowering as she sobbed towards the floor, her shoulders heaving as she put one hand to her mouth, trying to hold back her cries with weak, unsuccessful efforts. For a few seconds Santana just stared at her, trying to process her words. Then she slowly shook her head, her hand reaching out towards her, then slowly dropping to her side.

"Quinn…do you know how long I've been waiting to hear something like that from you. Like…as long as I've known you. Thank FUCK you're saying it at last."

She paused, exhaling audibly, but kept her eyes on Quinn as she continued. "Yeah, you hurt me. You hurt Brittany and most of all you hurt Rachel. But guess who you hurt most, Quinn? You. You need help, just like me. Because I hate myself too. And look where it's got me."

Quinn took a step back, not only refusing to meet Santana's eyes, but actually turning her head away. She sniffed, even as she tried to harden her voice, despite the tears still standing in her eyes. It was extremely unconvincing, and Santana knew that even Quinn was aware of this.

"None of that was reassuring, Santana, thanks anyway. Nice chatting to you, but I've got better things to do."

"Nope, none of that backing off scared shit," Santana said forcefully, rolling her eyes. She reached out to take hold of her arm, holding onto it gently but insistently. "You talked. Keep going. Get it off your chest. I know mine is way more impressive, but work with what you got."

"Yours is only "more impressive" cause the boobs are fake," Quinn muttered, actually cracking a small smile. "But seriously, I don't know what you want from me. I told you how I feel, what more do you want?"

"Impressive is impressive," Santana replied, smirking. "I want you to talk shit out, Quinn. Say all the shit you never say. I can take it. Get it out. And do something to change it."

"You may be able to take it, but I don't think I can. Do you realize just how much baggage I actually have?" Quinn tried weakly to pull from Santana's grasp, using her other hand to wipe at her face. Again, Santana didn't let her go.

"Let's see, there's the fact you used to look like a dork and so you probably think you'll never be pretty now even though everyone in the world knows you're beautiful," she recited, ticking off the items with her fingers. "You had the baby and gave her up. You have an asshole dad and a kinda weird mom, no offense, and you haven't had a normal relationship like, ever. Plus all the Christian guilt. I kinda get the baggage thing, Quinn."

"I didn't just look like a dork, I was one," Quinn corrected, biting down on her lower lip. She had stopped trying to get away even half heartedly now and almost leaned towards Santana- a clear sign, Santana thought with some satisfaction, that she was getting through.

" I had no friends. I only had bullies that I hated. Now I've become like the people I despised most. Do you know how damaging that is? I used to think that maybe I could be beautiful and maybe, physically I was, maybe physically I still am, but there is a second side to beauty and to get the physical, I gave up what I had of the other. I'm not saying I'd go back to being Lucy, because I wouldn't, not in a million years. I would, however, like certain aspects of her personality back. Aspects I gave up to become Quinn. Aspects that, now looking back, made her beautiful in her own right."

Quinn swallowed hard, more tears trickling down her cheeks, her voice dropping to a whisper. She was almost leaning into Santana now, inches from touching her.

"Giving up Beth, that kills me to this day. Russell Fabray may biologically be my father, but he…he is not family. My mom's problem is her ex husband and me because without us, she'd probably be better off. I hold more guilt than anyone our age should, over various things, all my life. Everything I am, everything about me, is wrong. Then and now…everything."

Santana listened, hearing her out, and surprised her own self when her hand slowly slid down Quinn's arm into the blonde's hand. When Quinn didn't pull back but instead hesitantly laced her fingers through Santana's, Santana let her, even giving her a small squeeze as she exhaled again.

"Look…I don't have all the right words, I never do. But I can listen. I have a lot of shit I'm just starting to try to deal with and it sucks. But maybe it will be better. You know? I mean…I'm sort of starting to believe that now. That things can get better. They're hard, and they hurt like hell, and there are things that just suck and always will…but there's good stuff too, and maybe it makes it worth it, some day. You know? You're not gonna change anyone else, Q. But…I don't know, if you change you, a little…stuff won't seem as bad."

She paused, a little disgruntled by her own words, and rolled her eyes. "Jesus, listen to me. This therapy shit and Rachel Barbra Berry are obviously infecting me."

"Maybe you have the right idea about this homeschooling stuff," Quinn muttered, sighing aloud. She sniffed again, and Santana noticed her arm lightly touching hers, as though a hesitant, unspoken seeking of comfort…or maybe an unspoken apology.

"Or maybe I don't," Santana nudged her lightly. "You can't run and hide from shit, Quinn."

Again what she was saying struck her, and she sighed, more loudly than Quinn had, her own shoulders slumping. "Shit. I gotta stop saying all this shit or someone is gonna hold me to it. I don't know…maybe I can't either."

"I thought you can't go back to school yet," Quinn commented, the last of her tears gone now as she finally fully looked Santana in the eye. "Because of your health or weight or something."

"I can't, yet," Santana muttered, breathing out through her nose heavily and looking down towards her and Quinn's joined hands. "But…I don't know. Eventually. Maybe."

"But you didn't want to," Quinn reminded her, frowning. "You said you would never go back. Even Brittany said you said that. If you wouldn't for Brittany…don't tell me you would be going back to school for ME."

"It wouldn't be for you, Oh Bigheaded One," Santana rolled her eyes, but she gave her a playful nudge to soften the words. "Well, not just for you. For Brittany. And Rachel. And…well…I don't know. I guess for me. Sort of."

Almost as an afterthought, she added, "And for Glee. Obviously you guys don't know what to do with yourself without my uniting presence."

Quinn actually snorted a laugh at that one, and for the first time, the two of them exchanged a genuine smile. Releasing her hand finally, Santana looked her over, giving a decided nod.

"I know exactly how to fix this shit…dye that ridiculous hair. That was the real catalyst of your downfall. Go back to blonde and your issues are basically over."

When Quinn scoffed, rolling her eyes, there was nevertheless a tiny smile on her lips. And as the two of them started to walk slowly, she hesitated, then, in one jerky gesture, linked her arms through Santana's as they continued on.


	65. Chapter 65

Despite the fact that she was still not yet eligible to return to school, based on her mother's rules of weight and behavior she would have to match first, Santana could acknowledge that her life was slowly starting to climb its way back towards a fraction of what she had once considered to be normal. She was not given much freedom or independence from her mother, because Maribel had maintained that she could not yet be fully trusted for this, but she was allowed on a near daily basis to go on a brief walk, as long as Rachel or Quinn or Brittany were with her. They were allowed to come over, as long as they didn't distract her from her meals or therapy appointments or doctor's appointments, and they were often allowed to stay the night as well. She was not as frequently receiving texts or messages from various other students at school, and Santana herself could feel her emotions slowly starting to stabilize.

Not that she in any way felt normal, only a bit closer than she had. She was still anxious and agitated every day, at every meal, and on particularly bad days even a gentle request from her mother could provoke tears or shouting outbursts. She often couldn't bring herself to even look in the mirror, and showers too had become a place of great discomfort, for she didn't want to have to look at the changes her body was making as it began to appropriately fill out again with slowly added weight in much needed areas. For much of the day Santana felt like a stranger was wearing her skin, and it could be very upsetting.

But she was trying, every day she was trying to fight through this and past this, to differentiate between her feelings and reality. Every time that she walked with her friends or her girlfriend, and they were able to distract her with silly stories or pointing out something unusual or interesting around them, every time Rachel squeezed her hand or kissed her or told her for the hundredth time, just as sincerely as the first, how proud she was of her, it made it just a little easier to push on. Even listening to Brittany talk about her worries of Lord Tubbington's addiction or Rachel over-stressing over a test or Quinn slowly beginning to talk about her own complicated feelings was helping her, allowing her to focus on someone and something else rather than herself. When she had nothing else going on in her world to focus on except her issues, and the few that her friends chose to share from their own lives, it became surprisingly apparent to Santana that she was actually not that bad at giving advice, when she wasn't distracted from everything else going on around her and all her worries of how others were judging and perceiving her. When she actually attempted to listen to other people, she was actually more interested than she would have thought.

She could feel herself growing closer to all of them than she had ever been before. Her friendship with Quinn seemed to be slowly stretching and bending into something entirely new to them both, a deeper and more genuine relationship than it ever had before as two proud, damaged, but not quite broken girls began to ease off on their distrust and let each other in. Her friendship with Brittany, always so complicated in definition, yet so easy in the mutual sharing of affection, was beginning to firm out into clearer boundaries of strictly very close friendship, with no blurred lines or temptations lingering any longer. Quinn and Brittany were her girls again, her best friends, and Santana loved them fiercely, if differently, in the way that two such different people would naturally invoke.

Her relationship with Rachel too was noticeably undergoing change. They had not had any sort of sexual intercourse or touching since her hospitalization, although Rachel had spent the night with her many times. Rachel had set this boundary and made it clear, and after one or two times of testing her, Santana had respected her new rule. Rachel had told her, and continued to explain to her gently several times, that they needed to step back, to focus on themselves and their lives and directions more strongly than on each other as a couple, and as difficult as it sometimes was for her to agree to this, Santana was, though somewhat reluctantly, beginning to see that she was right.

She could see this when Rachel continued to stand firm in setting boundaries for her own self, when she refused to let Santana's struggles get in the way of her own health or comfort. The first few times that Santana had started to get upset or buck her mother's rules of eating in her presence, trying to appeal to Rachel, Rachel had held firm in a way that Santana had at first been astonished, than upset by, then grudgingly started to respect and even admire. Her girlfriend had simply walked up to Santana, given her a brief gentle kiss, and then walked out of the house, telling her that she would be happy to see her and speak with her again when Santana was again working hard at her recovery.

It had taken several repetitions of this before Santana had come to an understanding that Rachel was not going to change her actions, not until Santana changed hers. Any day or time that Santana was resistant to improving her health, Rachel was not going to be around her or respond to her. It was a firmly drawn line that Rachel insisted upon, and it was one of Santana's biggest motivations.

Rachel was an enormous source of support; she was always willing to listen and hug, kiss, and encourage her when Santana was feeling overwhelmed or sad, and she was quick to give her compliments that were not simply thrown off the top of her head, but earnestly thought out and very much meant. But she also made it clear that she expected the same from Santana. On Rachel's days of anxiety, overexcitement, or sadness, she wanted the same shown towards her that she showed Santana, and she would accept no less. There were a few incidents of butting heads, arguments, and misunderstandings over this before again, her expectations became clear to Santana, and she began to make more effort in response, and as she did so, Santana began to do so more naturally, without needed prompts or reminders or corrections.

Santana's mother, of course, was her rock, whether or not Santana always wanted to openly admit this. Her mother stuck with her through it all, the good days and the bad, through sleepless nights and grouchy mornings and hours of arguing, attempted manipulation, and tears. No matter what Santana did or said, she knew she could count on her mother's rules to be unchanging, her expectations to be high, and whatever Santana had said to her the night before, when she needed them to be, her arms were always open to her. This year, and especially the past few months, had shown Santana undeniably just how much her mother loved her, and she knew she was incredibly lucky for this.

Even her father, as distant as he normally was, had begun to spend at least one or two nights a week coming home at a more reasonable hour, and he would sometimes eat with the family and ask Santana questions about her day. It was always somewhat awkward, watching his face as he tried to understand something about Brittany's cat or Rachel's new sweater or Santana's latest TV show obsession, but it meant more to her than she could have expressed that he seemed to be genuinely trying to "get" his daughter and her life. He still didn't hug her or speak of anything as obvious as love, but sometimes he would awkwardly pat Santana's arm or shoulder before he went to his office, and the nights that he was home, his wish for her to "have restful sleep" sounded so genuine it was almost a declaration of love itself.

There was one hold out in Santana's life, as was not unexpected to her, but no less painful. Alma Lopez had shown little change in her interactions with Santana even since her hospitalization, except in one way. Although she still rarely spoke to her or about her, and spent much of her time out of the home or in her own room, Santana had noticed her lingering within her vision more frequently, watching Santana's exchanges with her mother and sometimes her father. And one day, this came to a head.

Santana had just finished eating her meal for the evening and was fighting the anxiety it had given her; sitting on the couch beside her mother, she was resting her head on Maribel's shoulder, eyes closed, as Maribel rubbed her hand over her arm and shoulder, softly reminding her to take deep breaths. Although Santana was attempting to focus on this, she had a strange feeling that she was being watched. When she opened her eyes, she could see Alma standing in the doorway, staring at them without attempting to disguise it.

Seeing her daughter open her eyes and feeling her body tense against her, Maribel had followed the direction of her gaze, speaking to Alma with strain coming into her own tone.

"Is there something you want, Alma? I am afraid if it is not an emergency it will have to wait. I am assisting Santana at the moment."

"There is no assistance for those who deny the Lord's will," Alma spoke quietly but clearly, her eyes on Santana. "His judgment has clearly been passed on her already. This illness, this insanity of hers, it is a curse from God, and you would do well to let it take its toll on her. When you try to help her you deny her the chance to experience the full weight of his wrath. If she will not feel it in full she will never repent and return to His word."

The barely restrained rage that came over Maribel's expression then would have been enough to terrify any person with a degree of sanity, and she started to pull away from Santana, seemingly intent on correcting her mother-in-law with whatever means it might take. But Santana put out a hand across her mother's chest, trying to stop her from moving forward as she took a shaky breath in, attempting to calm down before she herself could respond. Her legs were a little unsteady as she got to her feet, but when she stood, stepping towards her abuela, she noted the discomfort on the woman's face, and her voice was even when she spoke to her.

"Abuela…you don't understand. You don't understand, and you never will."

"You are right," her abuela said darkly, shaking her head, and Santana noticed her take one step back. "I will never understand how you can choose a life of such immorality, receive the consequences that come from it, and still choose to pursue it as though it were your only choice in life to be had. Sin is beyond comprehension, Santana, and that is why-"

"No, abuela, that's not what I'm talking about at all," Santana interrupted her, her voice not angry, simply firm, resolute, as she continued to stare her in the eye. "If you would read the books or the articles or even talk to my therapist, then you would have some kind of understanding about what this is and how it happens, what sort of things cause it. Maybe even where you yourself had influence. But most of what you would learn, you'd learn from listening to me. But you're never going to do that, are you, abuela? You made up your mind about me long ago. Probably before I was even born, or right after. I was Maribel's daughter, your son's foolish mistake, the baby you were forced to take care of. Maybe you loved me, or thought you did; I think you did, probably, the most you can love anyone. I think maybe you even do now, if you would actually ever look at me or hear me. But if you don't?"

She shrugged, releasing another slow breath through her nose, as she continued, still standing close to her.

"If you don't…I get it. You can't love other people if you don't love yourself. It's easier to hate and judge and talk about them, so maybe no one will look at or talk about or think bad about you. I get it, abuela, because me and you? You might not want to hear it, but you're more like me, or maybe I'm more like you, than you think. Or I was, once. But things change, abuela, even if you fight against it, and sometimes because you fight for it, and so do I. I'm not going to let you hurt me anymore…do you understand? It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if you steal my things or leave notes everywhere putting me down or spit at me or throw stones or set up a sacrifice in your closet to my wicked wicked ways. It really doesn't, because…because I know where this is coming from. I'm not going to hope for something that can't happen anymore. You're not going to love me until you love yourself, so…I'm just going to hope that happens one day, because being stuck there, in that place in life? It really sucks, Abuela. It really fucking sucks. And it hurts."

Santana looked at her for a few seconds, noting that her abuela was staring at her, eyes wide, seeming to be near speechless for the first time in her life. She exhaled, then reached out one hand, briefly and lightly touching her arm before she stepped back.

"I'm trying too hard everywhere else to worry about trying with you. Not until you start trying too."

She didn't look back at her abuela. She just returned to her mother's side, gladly accepting the fierce embrace Maribel offered her and the kiss she planted on her head, and when she looked up a few moments later, she was unsurprised to find her abuela had slipped out of the room.

Some things might never change, but Santana was not one of them.

88


	66. Chapter 66

Texts

Santana: Rachel?

Rachel: Yes, Santana?

Santana: I love you.

Rachel: I love you too, Santana.

Rachel: Is everything all right? You don't usually say it first...and there was no precipitating occurrence that I am aware of...

Santana: No, it's okay. I just love you. That's all.

Rachel: Well, I love you too,sweetie. So much.

Rachel: Are you sure you're all right?

Santana: Yeah.

Santana: Are you about to start reciting speech number 874 about how proud you are of me?

Rachel: Oh no, Santana, surely by now we've reached at least speech number 898.

Santana: God, you're such a dork.

Santana: And I love you. I do.

Rachel: I know you do, baby. And I love you too.

Rachel: I do think you are rather ironic in the way that you call me a dork, when you were the one who insisted on keeping me awake last night to go over the finer points of an episode of Dawson's Creek, which was first aired when we were approximately three years old...

Santana: That was a classic!

Rachel: If you say so, dear.

Santana: I have something I want to tell you.

Rachel: Well, I'm all ears. Eyes, I suppose...?

Santana: It's more...something to show you.

Rachel: It's a school night, Santana, and not one of the nights your mother has allowed for me to be over...can this wait until tomorrow after school?

Santana: Not that long.

Rachel: Santana...

Santana: You'll see. I promise. No rule breaking...you'll see.

Rachel: I am highly suspicious...Santana, please don't get yourself into trouble.

Santana: I won't...probably.

Rachel: Santana!

Santana: Good night, Rachel. See you then.

88

Santana was scared to death.

It had been nearly two months that she had been out of school. During that time it seemed to her that everystep forward in progress was so difficult for her that she could barely manage to achieve it without wanting to take ten steps back. She was not allowed to know her own weight, or to have access to the scale; her mother weighed her every day, making her wear a sleep face mask to do so, and would then lock the scale into her bedroom, not allowing Santana access. Santana knew she was gaining weight, because her mother was giving her small rewards as she did so, like letting her go for a timed walk alone or with Rachel, or letting her have a choice between two options with her meals. She could see herself slowly filling out, just enough so her clothes were not so baggy, and it terrified her.

She knew she was still technically considered underweight, because Maribel still regularly took her to the doctor and monitored her after every meal, nor had she announced that she could return to Glee if she chose. Still, it was terrifying to know that even if she hadn't reached the 117 pounds her mother had declared her minimal acceptable weight, she was getting closer, and Santana was certain some days that her entire body was bloated and hideous.

She was going to therapy, and some days she genuinely did try to talk and bleed out some of the emotion and pain that was so difficult for her to share with most, that was so hard for her to let go of in a healthy manner. She was eating as Maribel asked her to, exercising no more than she was allowed, and on the days she slipped and did try to purge, if she wasn't caught mid act by Maribel, she would nearly always become so upset later that her mother would guess all the same. They had gone back to the days of her mother holding her, rocking her, after each meal, on many occasions, physically holding her together when she felt like she would fall apart from her own anxiety, but slowly, Santana could feel herself needing this less and less.

And this time, Santana was fully aware of how she was affecting her mother, how much her mother hated to have to do this to her, to see her in such struggling. This time rather than resenting or being angry, she was grateful, even when it hurt, even when it went against her instinct. Sure, she got tired of her mother watching her, ordering her life for her- but it made it easier on herself. It made her feel safe, when she felt entirely out of control, and even her mother making her sleep with her knife sometimes made her feel not mistrusted or suffocated, but comforted.

And so some days, Santana was actually able to lift her head and give her mother a small smile, or even a hug, without it being initiated on her. Some days, Santana could even thank her.

But as much as she had been trying, she was unprepared for the day Maribel told her she could now return to school, if she chose. That meant that she was now 112 pounds, the amount Maribel had deemed acceptable to attend school, and that knowledge alone was frightening. But then there was the aspect of school itself.

How could she return, knowing everyone knew what had happened to her? Knowing they were talking about her, laughing at her, that they all thought she deserved it? How could she return, no longer able to be a Cheerio- ever? No power, no friends, other than Rachel and Brittany, and now Quinn…how could she do this? How could she get through each day?

For a long time Santana told her mother no, that she wasn't ready. That she would never be ready. Despite her words to Quinn, and the consideration that plagued her with every day that maybe, just maybe, she needed to follow her own advice.

But then she thought of Rachel's words to her, about people missing her, needing her. Puck and Sam, Mercedes…Brittany, of course. Even Quinn, however strained things were between them. She thought about her own words to Quinn, how they could have been aimed at herself.

And Rachel. Rachel missed her. There was no telling what she was going through without her, because although Rachel had grown stronger, both in spite of and because of Santana, that didn't mean she didn't still sometimes suffer. And how could Santana help and support her, if she couldn't be there?

It was this as much as anything else, for Rachel as much of herself, that lead Santana through the doors of the school at last. She walked with her chin lifted, her head held high, even as her stomach churned with anxiety. She ignored the whispers and stares, the giggles and smirks, and kept going, all the way until she reached the chorus room's doors. Coming forward, she took her seat, her cheeks flushed at the looks, smiles, and greetings that came her way, but she had eyes for only one. Looking at Rachel, she reached forward, taking her hand.

"Here I am...what did I miss?"

She could faintly hear the surprised exclamations, sounding genuinely happy to see her, from the other kids, the greetings and questions as to how she was doing, the approaching feet coming her way, wanting to clap her on the shoulder or offer her hugs. But she had eyes for no one, she cared about nothing but the way that Rachel's eyes lit up, her entire face glowing with such happiness and pride, such obvious love for her, that nothing else in the world to her then could have meant as much. And as Rachel squeezed her hand, whispering words of welcome in her ear, Santana too smiled.

There was so far left to go, but for the first time now, she was certain she would get there.

End


End file.
